


Those Who Grieve

by TheLonelyGodWithABox



Series: Those Who... [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:30:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 27
Words: 90,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyGodWithABox/pseuds/TheLonelyGodWithABox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One sentence. That's all it takes to change the course of history, as Snape soon learns after an Occlemency lesson. 5th year AU. Abused!Harry. Mentor/guardian. M for rape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge: Happy Birthday, Harry

The Triwizard Tournament was over. Cedric was dead. And Harry was back at the Dursleys. Another school year accomplished. Another mission complete. And more people dead. Was this how his life was always going to go? Was he always going to be stuck in this hell hole he called home?

Harry had grown up a lot that year, he knew. You didn't watch a person die, and then get tortured in a graveyard by a madman without growing up some. Harry felt that something had happened that year, and there was no going back. It was like there was a new chapter of his life he was opening. The only part was that Harry didn't think it was going to be any better than the previous one.

In addition to simply feeling more grown up, Harry felt, well, old. Not just older, but old. He was tired of being hunted by Voldemort, and he was tired of having to chose between that or the Dursleys. He felt like he no longer belonged in his almost 15 year old body. Which, he was noticing, was quickly falling into disrepair. He wasn't eating like he should, and he wasn't sleeping well either. Ever since the final event, food had tasted like sawdust, and his sleep was littered with nightmares. At best, Harry could wake himself up from them, and at worst, he was trapped in his own personal hell with Cedric and Voldemort.

But Uncle Vernon - he was being different this year. And Harry wasn't sure why. His uncle was being, well, the best word to describe it, Harry decided, was nice. Uncle Vernon had told Aunt Petunia to "stop whining at Harry" at one point when she was upset about the state of her flowers. He hadn't called him "the boy" or "the freak." He'd called him Harry. And when he had missed a spot of fried-on grease when cleaning the kettles, and Aunt Petunia had aimed a frying pan at his head, Uncle Vernon had given his wife a withering look, usually one only used when Harry was being particularly inept, and told her that with actions like that, Harry would surely end up in the hospital with a bashed in skull.

"And would you care to explain that one to the nurses?" he had said.

And finally, when Harry had misread the recipe for supper, ("See, Snape?" he thought. "Potions isn't the only thing I misread directions on!"), and the dinner turned out particularly salty, and at Dudley's suggestion, Aunt Petunia had told him rather forcefully that he was only getting bread and water for supper that night, Uncle Vernon had once again come to his aid.

"Mistakes can happen to anyone, dear," he said. And he'd gotten his supper, much to Aunt Petunia and Dudley's frustration. Harry just wasn't sure what to make of the whole situation. Since when did Uncle Vernon ever help him? It was just too weird for words. And he'd been home a couple of weeks already. Any novelty of having him back and good resolves to treat him better should have worn off by then, Harry thought. It just didn't make sense.

But maybe it had something to do with some other odd things Harry had noticed. It didn't take him two hours to notice that something was wrong between Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. They never spoke to each other without snapping and using subtle (or sometimes not so subtle) insults. Even Dudley tried to keep his piggish head down when Uncle Vernon got home from work. So maybe he was the lucky victim of fate. Maybe Uncle Vernon figured that being nice to him would annoy his wife no end. Well, it was the first time that fate had smiled upon him, he figured. Unless you considered mysteriously surviving a killing curse thrown at you from a madman the effect of fate's smile. Harry personally thought that that incident had been caused by a grimace, because if fate had been kind, Voldemort would never have wanted to hunt him down.

Well, whatever the problem between his aunt and uncle was, it was serious enough that Aunt Petunia didn't want to be under the same roof with Uncle Vernon over the weekend. Come Friday, immediately after supper, every week without fail, she and Dudley would go to the other side of London to visit her cousin for the weekend, not returning till Monday at lunch time. Harry and Uncle Vernon never interacted much, even though Harry was beginning to think that they might be on better terms, and so he usually spent his weekends wandering in the park nearby, doing chores, or trying to find some sign of Voldemort in the Muggle news. Whatever Uncle Vernon did was his own business, Harry figured. They really only exchanged a few words at meals, and those were short and curt. Both seemed happy enough to ignore each other.

Well, at least that was what Harry thought. And Harry was happy enough to ignore Uncle Vernon. But, as Harry was soon to find out, Uncle Vernon was not happy to leave him alone.

The weekend was going pretty normally, with Harry having wandered in the park most of Saturday, coming back to fix meals, and then going to sleep. After showering the next morning, Harry walked down to the local Anglican church, and heard Mass. He'd picked up an interest in it when Remus Lupin had mentioned that his mother and father had been with the Church of England. Harry felt a certain connection to them through it. It was the church he had been baptized into. It was his godfather's church too. And now it was the church he attended. It wasn't like the Dursleys had ever bothered with religious education, though they too claimed to be Anglican. Harry personally thought it was more for show than for belief though.

He came home, and continued on in a normal Sunday routine, changing into a hoodie and jeans, fixing Uncle Vernon's brunch, and when he saw the thunderstorm outside, he spent the day reading in his room. Harry was frustrated with the weather, and with every crash of thunder, his annoyance increased. He wanted to be outside, burning off pent up energy. It made him feel less stressed, what with Voldemort and the Dursleys. Even though they weren't being horrible to him this summer, it was still stressful waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop.

Harry came downstairs and started to take out pans to cook supper. He tried to keep it quiet, but apparently it was still enough that Uncle Vernon heard, and came into the kitchen.

"Sorry," Harry hastily apologized.

"Don't bother with that," Uncle Vernon said with a casual wave of his hand.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"I'm ordering pizza," Uncle Vernon said, picking up the phone. Harry just blinked.

"Alright," he said after a moment, still not sure what to make of the situation. He finished the call and hung up the phone.

"You really shouldn't have to do all the work around here," Uncle Vernon said. "'All work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy.'"

"Yes, sir." Generally, agreeing with whatever Uncle Vernon said was a wise thing, even if he had no idea what (or more accurately, why) Uncle Vernon was saying this.

"And you won't have any dishes to do after," Uncle Vernon continued, and he pulled out paper plates. Harry just nodded mutely. Yes, it was a small thing, a very small thing, to not have to cook supper, and to not have to do the dishes, but to Harry, coming from his uncle, it was major. His uncle was buying him pizza, and then saving him the problem (small though it was) of dishes. Harry's head was spinning with the thought of it all.

"Why, sir?" Harry finally asked.

"I want you to do some cleaning upstairs," his uncle replied. Ah, so there it was. Well, still, Harry was going to appreciate the pizza. And so the pizza arrived, and they ate in silence. After clearing away the paper plates and plastic silverware to the rubbish bin, Harry grabbed the dust rag, and bounded up the stairs. He certainly didn't mind cleaning a bit after having had as good a meal as that. He began to hum softly as he went into his uncle's bedroom and move the things on the top of the dresser so that he could dust under them.

He was happy. He was actually genuinely happy. And he was at the Dursleys. Harry was just astonished by everything. He couldn't help but feel slightly guilty though that he was happy and Cedric was dead. Well, that ended that momentary burst of happiness, Harry thought glumly. So lost in his own thoughts was he, that Harry didn't even here his uncle come into the room and close and lock the door. Harry turned to dust the headboard, and caught sight of his uncle. Harry jumped in surprise.

"Sorry," Harry said, figuring that he must have done something wrong if his uncle was watching him clean.

"You're doing just fine," Uncle Vernon said, with a small smile creeping onto his features.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said. Uncle Vernon walked over closer to Harry. He stepped so close that Harry started to retreat, until he was in the corner. The way his uncle was looking at him - it just wasn't natural, Harry suddenly thought. Uncle Vernon's gaze bored into his soul. His uncle had never looked at him that way before. Seen through him as though he wasn't there? Yes, of course, all the time, but not like this! Harry's eyes were locked on his uncle's face, and suddenly, he felt very afraid. He dropped the dusting rag in his fear, though he didn't notice.

Uncle Vernon stepped close, and Harry felt his legs begin to sink as he slid down the wall, still wedged in the corner. He kept watching his uncle. Uncle Vernon laboriously knelt down in front of Harry, who had curled into a ball on the floor. Uncle Vernon reached out with one hand and ran his hand through Harry's black mop of hair. Harry shuddered at the touch.

Harry valued his purity - something he had picked up from his church - but that didn't mean his was ignorant. He lived in a dorm full of boys, after all, for nine months out of the year, most of whom couldn't have cared less about things like purity. He felt his stomach clench as he tried not to think about where this seemed to be going. It just couldn't be happening. He had been so happy just a few moments ago.

His uncle's hand came down over his ear, caressing as it went, and finally cupping Harry's jaw. Harry's skin crawled, but he didn't have anywhere to go. He was trapped. And he knew he'd walked right into it. He reached up and took Harry's glasses off, tossing them to the nightstand. Harry wished he was blinder than he really was. Even with myopic sight, he could see his uncle's face clearly. Abruptly, Uncle Vernon's hand left his jaw, and he began to lightly brush his fingers over Harry's forehead, with an emphasis, Harry noticed, on his lightning scar. The fingers wandered against his eyelashes, causing him to close his eyes in response. Then he felt Uncle Vernon's fingertips cross his eyelids, brush the side of his nose, and trace the outline of his mouth.

Harry wanted to vomit, he was so repulsed by the situation. He opened his eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what was going to happen, but instinct told him to look. His uncle's fingertips slipped down to his throat, and caressed his Adam's apple. Harry's breath caught, and he noticed his heart rate had quickened.

Suddenly, Uncle Vernon backed away, and pulled at Harry's feet, causing his knees to come away from his chest. Harry was still in such shock that it didn't even occur to him to try to curl away again. Uncle Vernon quickly untied Harry's trainers, and pulled them off, along with the socks. Then, spreading his legs, his uncle scooted close again. But this time, his uncle reached for the hem of the hoodie, and stuck his hands under. Almost tickling Harry, his uncle ran his hands over Harry's rib cage, feeling each individual bone. He brought his hands up to Harry's throat, and pushed the shirt over Harry's head, gently pulling Harry's arms out as well.

Harry's mind was turning over and over, as his uncle continued his sick plan. His uncle. No, Harry couldn't face thinking of him as his uncle. Vernon. Just Vernon. It was easier if he didn't think of it as someone who was related to him. Didn't that actually make this incest? Harry thought. He tasted the bitter taste of fear in the back of his throat.

Vernon tossed the hoodie aside carelessly, and ran his eyes greedily over Harry's thin torso. He sucked in his breath in anticipation. Leaning forward, he touched Harry's shoulder, and brushed his fingers over Harry's clavicle, and down his sternum. He brought his other hand to the base of Harry's sternum, and forcefully pushed his fingers against the lowest ribs as his fingers found his way around Harry's middle. Vernon brought his hands up and the heels of his hands began to massage Harry's breasts. Harry gasped at the unexpected pressure.

"You like it?" Vernon whispered, smiling at him.

"No, sir," Harry managed to say, as Vernon's hands continued to work on him. "Please don't do this, sir. Please don't!"

"Just relax, Harry," Vernon said. "You'll enjoy it. Just give yourself over to it." Harry swallowed hard. He closed his eyes, resigned, and leaned his head against the wall with a dull thud. Harry felt Vernon's hands creep down over his ribs again, and they began to poke and prod at his stomach. Vernon brought his thumb over Harry's navel and began to press lightly.

"Why?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes still closed. Vernon leaned close, and put his mouth to Harry's ear. His hot breath tickled Harry's auricle.

"Does there have to be a reason, Harry?" he whispered.

"Why now?" Harry tried again, his voice weak.

"Because I want to see what it's like," Vernon replied. Harry cracked an eye open, questioning. "The things they sell at the adult shops, Harry," Vernon continued breathlessly, trying to explain. "I want to see if it's like everything they've promised."

"Pornography?" Harry questioned. "You're into pornography?"

"Adult entertainment," Vernon corrected. "Yes."

"When?"

"Ever since - well, ever since Petunia found 'a better man.' She stopped having sex with me, Harry. She has a lover, and I don't have anyone. I need something, can't you see? And at the adult shops, they have these films with boys your age, and they promise so much. I need to see if it's true."

"No, no," Harry protested weakly. "Please, don't. Can't you find a prostitute somewhere?"

"But a teenage prostitute?" Vernon said. "A young virgin?" Harry felt his breath hitch, as he knew he was doomed to whatever abuse Vernon wished to inflict on him. He was smaller in every way than the man that knelt over him. There was no way he could hope to escape. "For free?" Harry went silent, and shut his eyes again.

But he opened them wide when he felt Vernon's hands work their way down his abdomen, to the button of his trousers at his waist. For a moment, Vernon's hand reverently rested on the button. Then, almost ceremoniously, Vernon unbuttoned it, and undid the zipper in one fluid motion. Vernon's breathing began coming in ragged gasps, as he yanked Harry's trousers out from under him, and completely off, leaving him in a pair of over sized briefs. In order to jerk Harry's trousers off, Vernon had had to back off from his prey. He ran his eyes over Harry's legs. Vernon ran his hands over Harry's calf muscles, making Harry shudder, and then he began to work his way up past the back of Harry's knees. Bringing his hands around to the inside of Harry's thighs, just above the kneecap, Vernon pushed Harry's legs apart. Harry tried to offer some physical resistance, but it seemed like his body just wouldn't respond like he was commanding it.

Vernon began to feel the inside of Harry's thighs, but his eyes were not on his hands. He traced the edges of Harry's pants. Then he grabbed them on the outside near the bottom, and began to slowly pull. When the top of Harry's hips were revealed, Vernon paused. He reached out and ran his fingers over the bones. Vernon glanced at Harry's horrified face.

"Just give in," Vernon whispered seductively. He pulled at Harry's pants a little more, and a little more, until finally he couldn't stand it anymore and in one clean motion, Harry was stark naked in front of him. Harry put his hands over his face, trying to hide the shame he felt. He wanted to curl up, but Vernon was holding his ankles in place and he couldn't move.

Suddenly, the weight lifted from him. Harry brought his hands down to see what was happened. Vernon was stripping as fast as he could, and Harry covered his face again. Vernon's large hands reached under Harry's arms and brought him to his feet, with Harry still refusing to look upon his abuser.

"Take your hands away," Vernon ordered curtly. Harry complied, clasping his hands behind his back, and looked at the floor. "Look at me," Vernon said. So Harry looked up at his face. "Look at me," Vernon said again in a deathly whisper. He reached out and cupped the back of Harry's head, causing him to see the very thing he didn't want to. Harry trembled.

"Please, please, no," he begged, even though he knew it was useless. Vernon was hard with arousal, and he pressed on Harry's shoulders, causing Harry to fall to his knees. Vernon ran his fingers through Harry's hair, getting a good grip at the roots, as Harry looked at Vernon with unseeing eyes.

"Sheath your teeth," he ordered.

"What?" Harry asked, unsure what Vernon meant.

"Like this," Vernon said, and demonstrated how Harry should curl his lips around his teeth. "Or you'll scratch me." Harry made a face at Vernon, which indicated his desire to do just that. "Trust me, you won't want to try," Vernon continued, as he shook Harry's head, demonstrating to Harry the helplessness of his position. "Open up." Harry shook his head. "I said, open up!" Vernon shook Harry by the roots of his hair until he teeth rattled. He yanked on the thick hair. Harry let out a small cry of pain. Vernon took his opportunity and stuck himself into Harry's mouth.

Vernon pulled Harry close, and forced himself down the boy's throat, despite his gagging. Vernon moaned in pleasure.

"Suck, Harry, suck!" he breathlessly instructed, as he clamped his hand down forcefully into Harry's scalp, an unsaid warning. So Harry tried to comply. It brought more groans of pleasure from Vernon. An indistinct amount of time later, Vernon pushed his hips forward, and came into Harry's mouth. Immediately, Harry tried to back away and spit the semen out. Vernon let Harry back away, but he held Harry's mouth closed.

"Swallow it," he instructed. Finally Harry couldn't suppress the reaction anymore and he did. Vernon let go. Harry gasped, and watched Vernon's face, with large scared eyes. "Get up," Vernon said. Harry stumbled to his feet, shaking in fear. Quicker than Harry thought was possible, Vernon rushed on him, grabbed him by the shoulders, and slammed him on his back onto the bed. He brought Harry's legs onto the bed after him, and pressed his hips against Harry's. He laced his fingers with Harry's and placed them on either side of Harry's head. Vernon leaned forward, pressing his chest against Harry's.

Harry could feel the Vernon's feverish body against his own, pinning him so that could hardly move at all. Tears began to leak out of his eyes, as the initial shock of the situation began to leave. Vernon leaned close and ran his tongue experimentally over Harry's lips. Harry wordlessly whined a plea to stop, refusing to open his mouth.

"Relax, Harry," Vernon whispered, his lips just centimeters from Harry's. "It will be pleasurable, I promise. Just relax and enjoy it." Vernon pressed his open mouth against Harry's, and he worked Harry's mouth open with his lips and tongue. He ran his tongue around Harry's open mouth, over his teeth, against his cheeks, and ultimately engaging Harry's tongue. Vernon moaned into Harry's mouth, and Harry realized what an odd sensation, having someone else make noise into your mouth. Vernon changed the position of his head as he tried to get a better angle into Harry's mouth. Finally, Vernon's tongue receded from Harry's mouth.

"Did you enjoy it?" Vernon asked quietly.

"No, sir," Harry whispered. Tears continued to leak from his eyes. "Please." Harry knew Vernon knew what he was asking for, even if he didn't specify this time. Without releasing Harry's hands, Vernon wiped his tears away. He'd walked into this, Harry knew. Vernon had set a trap for him, and he hadn't seen it until it was too late. If only he had seen it sooner. If only he had seen, he wouldn't be here now, under Vernon's body, being violated.

Vernon let up on Harry, and pulled Harry into a sitting position with the use of their laced fingers. Harry came up like a limp rag doll, as he head lolled back. Vernon swung his leg off Harry. For a moment, Harry's eyes went to the door, but he saw it was locked. There was no way he could run. Even if he could move now, he was still just as trapped as ever.

"Kneel on the bed, Harry," Vernon said. Harry moved until he was in the ordered position, across from Vernon who was also kneeling. Quickly, Vernon dropped both of Harry's hands. He slapped one hand to the base of Harry's skull and brought Harry's lips to his own again. His other hand wandered down Harry's chest, to his stomach, and below.

"Touch me, Harry," Vernon moaned between the forced kissing. Harry tried to shake his head. Vernon's hand squeezed pointedly, making Harry yelp at the unexpected pain. Vernon chuckled.

"You bit me," he said. "Good boy." And he grabbed Harry's lip lightly between his teeth, pulling on it almost playfully. Harry began to squeak in fear as he tried to free his lip from Vernon's teeth. But at another sharp squeeze on Vernon's part, Harry remembered the order he had been given. Hesitantly, he moved his hand to Vernon's lower region.

Barely had Harry made contact, when Vernon let out a groan, releasing Harry's now bleeding lip.

"Oh, Harry," Vernon said, leaning against him for support, "Harry, Harry!" Harry pulled his hand away, eager to stop. "Don't stop!" Vernon brought Harry back into another passionate kiss.

Suddenly, Vernon broke the contact, and pushed Harry face down into the pillow, exposing Harry's backside. Vernon took his index finger and inserted it. He began to move it around, preparing Harry, who was biting the pillow, trying to repress screams.

"Oh, Harry," Vernon said in a bored tone, "be sensible. You can enjoy it." He inserted his middle, and finally his ring finger, as Harry continued to scream into the pillow. Once all was ready, Vernon, who was ready again, pushed himself into Harry. He was sure to do it slowly, savoring every moment. Once he was in, he began to thrust and pull. Finally, he hit Harry's prostate, and Harry arched his back suddenly, releasing the pillow, and began to gasp and moan.

"You're enjoying it?" Vernon said, leaning close to Harry's ear, but not easing up one bit. Suddenly, Harry was horrified to realize that at some level, he was enjoying it. Harry became acutely aware that his own body was acting independently of his will. Vernon's hand crept under him, and felt when he didn't answer. "So you are enjoying it, my little whore," he whispered into Harry's ear. Lightly, he laid a kiss on his auricle. "You're hard," he observed. "Very hard."

"Please leave me alone!" Harry whimpered, conflicted between a desire to resist and another to simply give up and enjoy it as Vernon had suggested. He felt ashamed that he couldn't control his body. He felt betrayed when he came into Vernon's hand. Vernon chuckled. He let go of Harry, and began to run his hands up and down Harry's back. He moaned with each rhythmic thrust, and finally, as he was preparing to come himself, he bit down into Harry's shoulder. Harry screamed, both out of pain and pleasure, because Vernon had made sure that his final thrust was extremely well aimed.

Once the final crescendo had died, Vernon rolled the two of them on their sides, though he hadn't pulled out of Harry. Vernon wiggled the both of them under a light sheet and blanket. He held Harry close, and ran his finger through Harry's black mop of hair as he laid gentle kisses on Harry's shoulder and neck.

They lay there for time untold, until Harry heard the old grandfather clock downstairs announce the coming of a new day.

"Happy birthday, Harry," Vernon whispered.

Harry began to cry softly, his tears forming wet patches on the pillow.


	2. The Slings and Arrows of Fortune

An owl swooped low in the Great Hall, and dropped a scroll in front of Harry's plate. It was still mostly full, with scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Harry picked up a piece of lightly buttered toast and nibbled at a corner of it, as he started at the rolled up parchment. Setting down his toast, Harry reached over, and broke the wax seal. Inside was a note from Dumbledore informing him that his next Occlemency lesson was to take place that evening.

The school year was well underway, and he'd already had several Occlemency lessons from hell. Harry got no rest, and his health was falling apart at the seams. He couldn't help but find it ironic that his potions abilities were improving as he found that he had to make himself various potions to avoid seeing Madame Pomfrey over his various issues. Malnutrition, insomnia, and depression, just to name a few.

His summer hadn't been any easier since that first night. Every weekend, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, Vernon demanded his personal whore's presence in his bedroom. Harry had no choice but to comply. He begged every time to be released, but Vernon never listened. He insisted that Harry should enjoy it. And Harry hated himself because at a purely animal level, he did. He hated himself, and he hated what he had been made to do that summer, over and over again. Not only that, but now every night he had some nightmare about it. Nightmares about Voldemort and Cedric seemed mild in comparison.

Even dreamless sleep didn't block out the nightmares. Usually if he took it, he could sleep with dreaming of Vernon, but then the graveyard would be what he would dream about instead. He had too many things to hide from, apparently, for even his strongest version of the potion to fully work. He cast silencing charms around his bed, so that Ron and the others wouldn't know of his nightmares. He knew he called out in his sleep, begging Vernon to leave him alone, crying at times as well. He couldn't bare the shame of his friends knowing.

He knew because when he would finally become tired enough to sleep despite being cradled in Vernon's arms, and he was reacting to a nightmare, Vernon would kiss him awake, and tell him that he was dreaming. No, Harry would silently tell himself, it had only been memories of reality, not a dream. It seemed that there was no way to escape.

Harry understood that the purpose of his Occlemency lessons was to block out his nightmares about Voldemort. He wanted to do that, yes, but more importantly he wanted to block out his nightmares of Vernon. In comparison, to him, Voldemort was the smaller of the two problems. All Voldemort wanted to do was kill him. He wished that Snape would teach him in a way he could understand, because he really did want to learn Occlemency. Harry knew he had a strong mind, because he had kept Snape out of his memories of his childhood and the summer. Now if only he could learn to apply it to his sleep, maybe he could finally find an escape.

He blinked back the beginnings of tears. He'd promised himself after that first night that he would never cry again, but he broke that promise with every incident and nightmare. He certainly wasn't going to break it now. He pinched the bridge of his nose and banished thoughts of the summer from his mind.

"Harry?" a voice broke through his thoughts.

"Yes, Hermione?" Harry replied, his voice even and interested.

"What's wrong?" She asked it like she wanted a real answer, here and now, over breakfast.

"Nothing," Harry said, sounding surprised and innocent.

"Don't tell me that!" she hissed at him. "Don't lie to me! Something's wrong, terribly wrong. You're still upset about - about last year?"

"Something like that," Harry shrugged. It was true, he was still upset about Cedric.

"You can always talk to Ron and me," she said softly. "We'll understand." Harry smiled at her.

"I appreciate that," he said, not insincerely. "But I think it's something I have to work through on my own. I hope you can respect that?"

"Of course," she said. "You just haven't hardly eaten at all this school year. I'm not sure how you haven't passed out yet."

"I'll try to do better at that, okay?" Maybe if he showed Hermione a sign of his good faith, she could leave him alone. He didn't want to face his friends with what had happened that summer. Who would respect him at all? The Boy-Who-Lived. A whore. A slut. Too weak to stand up to Vernon. To weak not to be used. Unable to control his own reactions.

"Okay," Hermione said and smiled slightly.

Harry got up after finishing his toast and took the note with him. He wanted to inform Dumbledore of his situation at home. But he hadn't been able to get an opportunity to tell him yet. The man wouldn't even look at him. And it hurt Harry like a sharp knife, because even though Harry knew better, it felt like Dumbledore didn't even want to soil his eyes on him anymore. But there was no way Dumbledore could know.

And Harry hadn't told anyone else. Absolutely no one. Not Ron, not Hermione, not even his confessor. Sure, the priest came around asking him if something was wrong when he stopped going to communion abruptly.

"Harry," Vicar Donnall said one Sunday as he was trying to slip away quietly. Harry paused, but tried to slip away anyway. "Harry?" the vicar tried again, and Harry couldn't help but turn around and face him.

"Yes, vicar?" he asked.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, sir! I mean, vicar, sir," he stammered, so nervous with the confrontation. He wanted his vicar to think well of him, and telling him what had been happening surely wasn't the way to do that. How could he tell the man that he had hated it and liked it both at the same time?

"Harry," the vicar said kindly, "it's alright. I know you come from a hard background. You're a good boy."

"Yes, vicar," Harry choked out, unable to meet his gaze.

"You know that I'm bound by the seal of confession if you ever want to talk about anything," the vicar continued.

"I know that, yes. I don't want to talk about anything."

"Alright, Harry. That's fine. Have a good day."

"Thank you, vicar, you too."

Harry still came to Mass every Sunday, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to go to communion. He'd been taught by the vicar when taking instruction that receiving was inviting Christ into his body. His body was supposed to be a temple of the Holy Spirit. How could he justify inviting his creator into a temple that had been desecrated to that degree?

Harry worked through the rest of the day, trying to keep his mind from wandering in the memories of the summer. It was a difficult task, he found, because it was all he could see when he closed his eyes. And sometimes, nightmares become daymares. Finally, after a grueling day of classwork, Harry found himself walking down to Snape's office for his Occlemency lesson. It was torture, yes, but at least the man hated him. It was easier than the summer. He knocked on the door. Snape opened it, and sneered at him.

"Late again."

"Yes, sir, sorry," Harry muttered. It all depended on which clock you read whether he was late or not. Even wizard clocks didn't all agree. They began the lesson, with Harry trying to occlude and Snape breaking into his mind.

"Why can't you do anything well, Potter?" Snape hissed at him.

"I don't know, sir!" Harry shouted back at him.

"Maybe if you had been properly disciplined, you would be able to do it," he sneered. "Legillimens!"

.oO-Oo.

The scenes that assaulted Severus' mind were astounding, he thought. Severus began to wander in Harry's thoughts and memories. He had never seen these before. That in itself proved to him that Harry was, in fact, capable of Occlemency.

It was clearly the summer after Harry's first year. He'd gotten to the Dursleys and was pointing his wand at Dudley.

"Abracadabra!" Harry said as he waved his wand. Obviously, nothing happened. But Dudley began to cry, and say that Harry had done something to his mind. Severus wasn't sure what Dudley was claiming, and he wasn't sure that anyone else could be sure either. But he ran to his mother, who cradled him in her apron, rebuking Harry. Severus noted, he wasn't defending himself, though nothing she said seemed to faze him, until she got to the part about telling his uncle.

"Please don't do that!" Harry said, paling considerably. "I was only joking with Dudley! It wasn't serious!" Then the memory skipped to where Harry stood with his uncle laying a belt on his back. Harry was wincing, but Severus knew from personal experience that it hurt more than Harry was letting on. All for saying Abracadabra? Well, sure, Severus knew that it was an ancient Muggle corruption of the killing curse, Avada Kadavra, but Harry didn't know that, and neither did the Dursleys, he was sure.

Severus saw a number of memories which were simply fragments. Harry dropping a dish and Petunia pushing him into the shards, cutting his hands as he fell. The owl screeching in the middle of the night, and Harry having to stay awake the rest of that night and the following night, to teach him the value of sleep. And generally, there were just feelings which Severus could sense which were much too familiar for his comfort.

Severus pulled out from Harry's mind. He looked at Harry curiously for a moment, but it was very passing, and Harry missed it.

"Get out," he hissed. "You're as inept as ever. Go!"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, grabbing his bag and hurrying out.

Severus didn't know what to do, which was why he sent Harry away in his usual brisk manner. He didn't like what he'd seen, what he'd felt, and he wasn't about to stand by and let abuse happen. Not even to the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him. He braced himself against his desk and sighed.

One sentence. That had been all it had taken to bring those memories of "discipline" to Harry's mind. And then his assault on Harry's mind had broken into what was on the surface. He needed to do something about this.

Well, he could wait a bit, he figured. It wasn't like the brat was going back to his relatives for awhile yet. No matter what was wrong, he was out of danger at the moment.

.oO-Oo.

Another Occlemency lesson came, and Snape seemed to have it in for him, Harry thought miserably. This lesson seemed worse than normal, with Snape sneering at him and deriding him more than usual. Harry wasn't sure what he'd done to earn his professor's ire this time, but then, when did he ever have to do anything?

"If your relatives hadn't treated you like a spoiled brat, this wouldn't be so hard on both of us!" Snape hissed at him, and then legillimized him with a brutal force, breaking down his defenses in a moment.

.oO-Oo.

Severus wandered in memories again, just like he had planned it. In addition to the same memories as the week before, he saw fragments of other beatings, lack of food, and a cupboard. Severus remembered the address on Harry's Howarts letter, and then it made sense. So apparently Petunia hadn't changed at all over the past years. He saw Harry crying, alone and forgotten, both in his cupboard and in a room with bars on the window. Even the Potter brat couldn't be that bad, Severus realized.

"Leave," he snapped. "I don't even know why you come here!"

"I don't either," Potter said under his breath, but he let it pass.

He needed to adopt Potter. It was the surest way of guarding him against abuse. He could watch over Potter well enough, he figured. It would certainly make things awkward with the Dark Lord, but well, perhaps it was just something he could hide like he hid so much. He would definitely have a talk with Dumbledore about this.

.oO-Oo.

"Albus," he said, after the old man told him to come in.

"Ah, Severus," he replied. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," he said. "It's about Potter."

"I should have guessed," Albus chuckled. "How did he fare tonight?"

"Abysmal, as always," Severus drawled. "But his performance in Occlemency is not why I'm here. I have reason to believe that his relatives aren't treating him properly. That they are, for lack of a better word, abusing him."

"Really, Severus?" Albus said, curious. "Why do you think this?"

"Because I saw memories when I attacked his mind tonight, and a week ago, where his uncle was beating him with a belt," Severus sighed, "for saying 'Abracadabra.' I saw him being kept in a cupboard, while they were denying him food."

"When was this?" Albus said, the usual twinkle gone from his eyes, replaced by grave seriousness.

"The beating was the summer after his first year, and the cupboard was before Hogwarts," Severus replied.

"Did you see anything from this past summer?" Albus asked.

"No, I didn't, Albus."

"Then, perhaps," Albus said hopefully, "it's stopped? Perhaps Voldemort's return has brought them around to the seriousness of the situation?"

"Don't say his name, Albus!" Severus hissed, clutching his left arm. "You know what it does!"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Albus said. "I forgot." Severus made a face at him.

"Of course you would," he sneered. "It doesn't send agony up your arm when you hear the name."

"So I propose that you speak to Harry about what you saw, Severus, and see what he has to say about it."

"No, Albus," Severus said. "I can't do that. I've already broken into his private business too far. I refuse to do more. All I wish to do is to become the Potter brat's guardian. I can stay distant from him, but see that he receives some proper discipline for apparently the first time in his life."

"And your version of proper discipline?"

"Not abuse," Severus hissed. "Don't you dare think that I would to anyone in my care."

"You do to your students in class enough," Albus pointed out. Severus hissed in response. It was true, and he didn't have a good excuse. Turning around and blaming them for being dunderheads certainly wasn't mature, and it definitely wasn't an excuse.

"Fine," he said after a moment. "But I won't to Potter, not now, I swear."

"What about the wards, Severus?" Albus said. "He needs the protection of blood."

"A blood adoption," Severus said after a moment's pause. "His mother's sacrifice will not be forgotten that way," Severus continued. "If we go through with a blood adoption, I will then become a blood relative. That is all the wards need, correct? A blood relative? Petunia may be related directly to Lily, and strengthen the wards that way, but I am a wizard, and I can strengthen them other ways too. After all is said and done, the wards will be the same strength, if not stronger. Will that satisfy you?"

"It will," Albus said. "If this is truly what you want, Severus."

"It is."

"You don't have to, you know. I'm sure someone else would be willing enough to take him in, if you're as sure as you are that his home condition is unacceptable."

"I am, and no, I won't let you choose his next caretaker," Severus said. "If you want a job done right, do it yourself."

"Then we can begin on the paperwork, I suppose," Albus said. "Consent from the Dursleys will not be required. I can over rule any objections they may have. They will simply receive an owl when it is complete."

"That is acceptable, Albus," Severus said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Severus," he said. "Will you be telling Harry?"

"No," Severus said. "Not until the ceremony. I'm not sure that the news of being placed in my care will be any easier on him than his relatives."

"I'm truly sorry if I ever placed Harry in danger." Severus nodded, and left the office.

.oO-Oo.

"No, no, no," Harry whispered, pale and panicked as he read a letter that had been dropped in front of his breakfast a few days before Christmas. "No, no!"

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron said, trying to get a glance at Harry's letter.

"Nothing!" Harry said, crumpling the paper.

"Aw, common, Harry," Ron said. "You look like you just saw Nearly Headless Nick become totally headless. What's up?"

"My relatives want me back for the holidays," Harry gave in, as he covered his face with his hands, dropping the paper on his half empty plate.

"Why?" Ron asked. "They've never wanted you before."

"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically.

"But why?" Ron pushed.

"I - I don't know," Harry stammered. "But it can't be good," he amended lamely. Ron nodded, confused.

"You can talk to Dumbledore," Ron suggested.

"Yeah," Harry said thoughtfully. "I think I will. Thanks." He smiled wanly at his friend.

.oO-Oo.

"Professor?" Harry said after Transfiguration the next day. "I need to speak with Dumbledore. It's urgent."

"He's a busy man, Harry," McGonagall said. "What is it?"

"It's about the Christmas holidays," Harry tried to explain. "The Dursleys want me back for some reason," he shrugged ignorantly, "and I'd rather stay here." McGonagall raised a eyebrow.

"I see," she said. "I'm sure the Headmaster can take a few moments to deal with this." Minerva remembered warning Dumbledore years ago that the Dursleys were the worst kind of Muggles. And Harry was very intent on not going back if he was ready to talk to Dumbledore about this. Minerva suspected that Harry knew more than he was telling her, but she wanted him to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays as well, or perhaps spend it with the Weasleys.

After saying the password, "butterscotch chips," and watching the gargoyles jump away, Minerva let Harry go up the stairs alone to speak with Dumbledore. Harry was nervous, but he continued up the stairs as confidently as he could.

Thank God there wasn't anything incriminating in the letter. Just a simple line saying that they expected him back for Christmas. He could show it to Dumbledore without having to explain anything. He knocked on the Headmaster's door.

"Come in!" he heard Dumbledore call. Harry cautiously opened the door, slipped in, and closed it behind him.

"Harry!" Dumbledore said, but he remained looking at the papers on his desk.

"Professor Dumbledore?" he asked, but his voice nearly as steady as he would have liked. "It's about the Christmas holidays, sir. My relatives want me back, and I was hoping you would be able to tell them no. I'd rather stay here." He laid the Dursley's letter on Dumbledore's desk. He took it and read it over.

"Why don't you want to go back?" Dumbledore said.

"Because - " Harry began, groping for an excuse, "because I'd rather stay here, sir. It's just noisier with them."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "Well, Harry," he sighed. "I would love to say that you can stay here for Christmas. But unless I have a specific and immediate reason why shouldn't go back there, they are your guardians, and I must respect the request. Is there any other reason you would like to tell me now?" Harry hesitated for a moment. All he would have to do is say it. Vernon rapes me! His mind was screaming it, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. Even now, Dumbledore wasn't looking at him. And it hurt. "Anything at all?" Harry tried to make his mouth say what he was thinking, but no sound came out.

"No, sir," he finally said, sighing. "Thank you, sir." Harry grabbed the note from Dumbledore's desk, and turned.

"If you want to bring a reason to me later, that is fine too," Dumbledore offered.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Good day." Harry slipped out of Dumbledore's office, silently, and went to his dorms, where he sat on his bed with the curtains drawn. He cast a silencing charm, and began to cry silently into his hands, despite his promise never to cry again.

.oO-Oo.

The Christmas holidays were upon them, and Harry waited at Platform 9 to be picked up that Friday evening. He sat on his trunk, chin in his hands as his heart thumped in his ears. He could run away. He could take off right now. Take off and never come back. But if he did that, now, the Dursleys would likely get the police to look for a runaway child. He began to hyperventilate, but he consciously slowed his breathing. As tempting as running away sounded, he didn't really believe it would fix any of his problems. It would only make them worse.

But couldn't Vernon be arrested for what he was doing? Harry knew there were laws against it, but he'd also heard too many stories of no one helping when abuse was reported. If Vernon denied it, it would just be his word against Vernon's. And he knew that his relatives had done a good job of telling everyone in the neighborhood that he was a nut job. So if the social worker tried to talk to anyone else about it, that would be what she would get. And his last situation would be worse than the first. Harry ruled out going to the authorities.

He shivered and pulled his coat closer as the winter winds picked up. In a moment, a car drove up, and he recognized Vernon in the front seat.

"Hello, Harry," he said. "Did you have a good semester?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, looking at the cement as he dragged his trunk to the boot of the car. Once he was backed, he got into the front seat where Vernon was directing him. Harry couldn't bring himself to meet Vernon's gaze, the hungry one that he knew was observing him. He'd been away for months, and Vernon had already said he wouldn't use a prostitute. No, he wanted his own personal one instead.

Harry stiffened as Vernon's hand came into his view. The hand crept across his lap and began to feel him. He gasped, but didn't say anything. As Vernon's hand continued to massage him, Vernon chuckled.

"Good, eh?" he said. Harry didn't respond. He tried to distance his mind from what was happening, in the front seat of a car for crying out loud, and stare out the window instead. But Vernon pinched him, and he jumped.

"No, sir," Harry said quietly. "Please don't," he begged hopelessly. "If you ever cared about me at all, please just let me go back to Hogwarts."

"But you're aroused, Harry," Vernon said. "I can tell."

"Of course I am!" Harry said, suddenly shouting, and glaring at him. "But it's not my choice! Can't you see that? I don't want you to! I don't want to be your personal little whore!" He swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to get his emotions back under control. He felt like he was going to cry again, but he just couldn't, wouldn't. Vernon looked at him curiously.

"Harry," he finally said, very gently. Vernon gave him one final pat, and put the car in drive. They were perfectly silent the whole ride back to Private Drive. Harry got his trunk from the boot of the car, and brought it into his bedroom. Vernon was watching his every move like a hawk. It was making Harry nervous, having Vernon stare at him like that. Harry got the distinct feeling that Vernon was undressing him with his eyes. Harry's cheeks flushed even though he was fully clothed.

.oO-Oo.

"You what?" Snape screamed at Dumbledore.

"I had to, Severus!" Dumbledore said. "His relatives said they wanted him back for the holidays, and your paperwork isn't done yet! Look, it's only for a little better than a week. Be reasonable. Nothing that bad is going to happen to him in a week."

.oO-Oo.

Vernon called Harry out of his room, once he had unpacked his things. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were gone as always, since it was a Friday evening. Harry had hoped that maybe they would have hung around since it was so close to Christmas. But no, Vernon would likely have seen to it that they left. Harry wore a t shirt and jeans, since they took less room to pack than anything else he had chosen to leave at Hogwarts.

Vernon sat on the couch, and Harry felt some vague hope that maybe his outburst in the car had meant something. At least Vernon wasn't shooing him into the bedroom.

"Yes, sir?" he said, nervously biting his lip as he prayed to be spared that night.

"Come sit over here," he said. Harry swallowed, and complied, perching himself on the edge of the couch, as far away from Vernon as he could. He waited for Vernon to do something. Vernon picked up the television remote, and turned it on. Harry immediately looked away, blushing deeply.

It was one of Vernon's often mentioned porn videos. Harry had never seen them before, and he had no intention of seeing it now. As the video progressed, and Harry still didn't watch, he began to blush deeper and deeper at the sounds assaulting his ears. He squirmed uncomfortably. The video drew to a close, and Harry was still blushing. Vernon grabbed Harry by his much too thin wrist and pulled him closer.

"Harry," Vernon breathed on him, "you're so beautiful when you blush like that." Without meaning to, Harry blushed deeper. Vernon began to trace Harry's lips with his index finger, as he draped an arm over Harry's shoulders. Vernons fingers wandered over Harry until he began to grope the boy again.

"Did you mean what you said in the car? That you didn't want me to do this?" Vernon said.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, even as Vernon's hand sent waves of pleasure to his brain. Then Vernon grabbed him fiercely and Harry bit back a cry of agony as he collapsed into Vernon's arms.

"Did you mean it?" Vernon asked again. Harry breathed heavily, trying to think through the pain.

"Yes - " he began, but Vernon squeezed harder. "I mean, no, sir," Harry amended. Vernon's hand eased and resumed caressing him.

"So you want me to do this? Think about your answer."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, as he began to cry softly.

"Say it," Vernon said.

"I want you to touch me," Harry said, his voice hollow.

"Then let's go to a more appropriate setting," Vernon whispered in his ear. Vernon led the way to his bedroom, with Harry trailing behind, hopelessly. Vernon let Harry go in first, and then followed, closing and locking the door behind them. How often had Harry heard the click of that door and despair washed over him? He felt it once more. He wanted to collapse on the floor.

"Get on the bed," Vernon said, pulling his own clothes off. Harry sat on the bed, and swung his legs up, laying on his back, as he knew Vernon wanted. He tried to shut his mind off, block out reality, like Snape had taught him, but it never worked. Harry studied a spot of dirt on the ceiling. Then he felt the bed sag as Vernon knelt over him.

Gently, Vernon began to disrobe him, tossing the articles of clothing aside. Vernon began to run his hands up and down Harry's chest passionately. He rubbed his hips against Harry's, and moaned.

"It's been so long, Harry," Vernon said. "So long." Harry nodded, his eyes tightly closed. Abruptly, Vernon stopped, and reached down to Harry.

"Did you miss it?" he prompted.

"Yes, sir," he whispered, the words bitter in his mouth. They were a lie. A bold faced lie, but he couldn't face the pain that Vernon would otherwise inflict on him. Vernon would take him anyway, Harry knew. He was only saving himself some pain along the way. But was he really? He didn't know because it hurt to say these things too. Harry wasn't sure which hurt more. Vernon began to rub again, and leaned over to kiss Harry as he stimulated Harry's chest.

"Mmm," Vernon moaned into Harry's mouth. "I'd forgotten just how...good...you tasted." He continued to kiss Harry, sucking and biting at his lips, running his tongue around in Harry's mouth. Vernon's hands wandered around to Harry's back, and began to creep lower. They began to explore Harry's backside, and Harry yelped into Vernon's mouth. Vernon laughed, and continued to cause Harry to moan and whine in pain and pleasure.

"Put your legs around me," Vernon instructed. Harry slipped his legs around Vernon's waist, and pulled his body close. Vernon began to insert himself into Harry. He moved around inside Harry until he elicited the desired gasp of pleasure. He began to knead Harry into further arousal. Harry was panting and sweating, ashamed and embarrassed as he clung to Vernon.

"Please, please," he begged. Vernon slammed into him hard, and caused a scream of pleasure to erupt from Harry's mouth. Tears began to leak from Harry's eyes again, and even Harry himself wasn't sure whether they were from shame or pleasure. Perhaps both.

"Please," he offered one more time.

"My little slut," Vernon whispered, "begging for more. My own personal little whore." He said the words fondly. Slamming into him again, Harry arched his back, and opened his mouth in a soundless scream.

"I'm not yours," Harry gasped between prods from Vernon.

"Oh?" Vernon said. "There's someone else? Someone at school?"

"No!" Harry gasped again.

"Then you're mine," Vernon whispered, as he watched Harry fight the pleasure in his middle at the same time as he fought the assault on his mind. "You were mine from the moment I filled you and you screamed." Harry was panting hard. As if for effect, Vernon filled him at that moment, and Harry came as well, as he went limp in Vernon's arms.

"That was beautiful, Harry," Vernon said as he pulled out. He rolled over, leaving Harry sitting on top of him. He took Harry's hands and place them on his chest. "Touch me," he said, and sighed as Harry went to work. He began to stroke Harry, who squirmed uncomfortably.

No matter how often Vernon made him go through this, it never became any easier, Harry realized. After a few minutes, Vernon threw him off, and pulled him close under the blankets for the night, being sure, Harry noticed, to entangle their lower regions.


	3. Those Who Grieve Will Find Each Other

Severus watched Potter the first day back from Christmas break. The boy looked sick, he noticed. He had an ashen look about him, he was jumpy, and clearly there was something seriously wrong. Whatever had transpired at his relatives house over Christmas clearly had taken a toll on him. He might hate the boy, and he might detest the idea of adopting him, but he still didn't like to see anyone in that state. There wasn't much Dumbledore could have done to deny the brat's relatives' wishes, Severus knew, but saying he thought it most unfortunate that Potter had to would be an understatement. Even if he hated the boy, he tried to have some compassion, though he tried to tell himself that he was only doing this for the cause, because he had to protect Potter to protect the world.

Finally, the paperwork had been completed. The infernal adoption was scheduled for that night, and Dumbledore had sent the brat a note telling him to come to the Headmaster's office. Albus would be conducting the ceremony and Potter wouldn't know what was going on until he arrived, because Severus wanted to spare him as much anxiety over it as possible. By the time he figured out what was going on, the ceremony would be over, and the deal would be done. There was no undoing it. Severus silenced an annoying voice in the back of his mind that said it was a bit unfair to force this on the boy.

.oO-Oo.

"Come in!" Dumbledore called at Harry's nervous knock. Harry stepped in, and saw Snape glowering at him, and Dumbledore smiling. Whatever this was about, Harry had a suspicion that it wasn't what he would call good.

"Yes, sir? You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry said, nervously glancing at Snape. Snape's gaze bored into him. Harry wondered if this was about his Occlemency performance. He knew he was terrible at it, but what else could he do?

"Yes, I did, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Or rather, Severus did. I think you'll have to explain it to him now, Severus." Definitely Occlemency.

"Why, thank you," Severus drawled sarcastically. "Potter. I'm adopting you, by a blood adoption. It's the only way you're going to be disciplined right apparently, since your relatives never did a good job. It will be the only way for you to ever have the slimmest hope of scraping by at Occlemency. The Headmaster approved this. You will continue to be called Harry Potter, even if your name legally will be Harry Snape. Do you understand?"

Harry's jaw worked up and down, but he couldn't make himself say anything. Adopted by Snape. His first thought was to jump up and down and even hug his potions professor. He wouldn't have to go back to the Dursleys. Not ever. His second thought was that Snape was going to kill him.

"Yes, sir," he finally said, his voice void of any tone.

"Good," Snape said. "Then let us proceed with the ceremony." Dumbledore took out an ornate knife, decorated in rubies and emeralds, and handed it to Snape.

"Do you, Severus Tobias Snape, hereby take responsibility for Harry Potter as your own?"

"I do," Snape said.

"And do you consent to make Harry Potter your own, even in blood?"

"I do." Snape took the knife and cut the palm of his hand. He handed the knife back to Dumbledore, who passed it to Harry. Harry looked nervously at the two men.

"Do I have to?" he whispered.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Do you, Harry James Potter, consent to be adopted by Severus Snape, to be made his own, even in blood?"

"I do," Harry muttered. It wasn't that he wanted to be adopted by a dungeon bat, but Dumbledore told him he had to, and would dying at Snape's hands be any worse than what he currently had to face? Harry didn't think so. But Snape scared him horribly. He felt a rock in his stomach at the thought of being under Snape's care. It might be different than Vernon, and his mind knew it couldn't be worse, but he was scared more by Snape, even if that didn't really make sense.

"Cut your hand, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I can heal it immediately after." Harry did as he was told, and cut the palm of his hand, like Snape had done. Snape reached out and placed Harry's bleeding hand against his own. Dumbledore waved his wand with an incantation, and red and green ribbons wrapped around their wrists. Harry felt Snape's blood enter his cut, and his own enter Snape's. The ribbons bound their hands together with such force that Harry thought if they had tried, they would not have been able to pull apart. After a moment, the ribbons fell away.

"Congratulations, Severus Snape, you have a son," Dumbledore said. "And congratulations, Harry Snape, you have a father." Harry winced at his name. He hated it. It just didn't sound right. He held out his hand and Dumbledore healed it, then headed Snape's hand.

"I'll speak with you later, Mister," Snape paused, "Harry," he finally said, unsure of which last name he should use. "In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you try not to shame the name of Snape too much."

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, his head down. Snape eyed him cruelly, and then left the room in his usual blustery way. Harry looked at Dumbledore, who was taking his seat behind his desk.

"Please forgive Professor Snape," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure the thought of him having a son is almost as strange for him as you having a father."

"Why did he want this?" Harry hissed.

"I believe that is his business to tell you," Dumbledore said.

"Then you admit there's more to this than Occlemency? Why did you approve this?" Harry pressed again.

"Because I agreed with Professor Snape," Dumbledore said, his patience clearly wearing thin.

"But he hates me!" Harry objected.

"Not nearly as much as you think," Dumbledore said.

"Why won't anyone tell me what's going on?" Harry screamed. Dumbledore took Harry's outburst in stride. But Harry continued, "Am I really worth that little, that no one tells me what's going on? Why can't I know, just a little bit? I'm pawned off to Snape, without a word of warning, and suddenly I'm his son, I'm not even allowed to keep my real father's name, and I don't know why!"

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "Some things need to be explained at the right time, by the right person. And right now, you have neither. Please, Harry, it's time for you to go."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, clearly still miffed. "You all think I'm a weapon in this war, and you forget that I have feelings too," he muttered quietly as he left.

.oO-Oo.

Harry sorted through his stock of potions in his trunk and pulled out a vial of his strongest dreamless sleep. It was the only way he was going to be able to close his eyes that night, he knew. He hated turning to potions for survival, but that was what it was. Survival. He tipped the vial back and swallowed everything in it. Grimacing at the taste, he tossed the bottle back in the drawer, and began to crawl into bed.

"Hey, mate, what's up?" Ron said. Harry jumped clean over the bed and fell on the floor. "Whoa, sorry." Harry scrambled up and brushed himself off. He hadn't meant to react that violently to a simple greeting, but he was on edge from the adoption yet. He felt a strange tingling in blood stream, undoubtedly from the novelty of having Snape's blood in his veins. He wondered if Snape felt as strange as he did at the moment. It surely couldn't be any easier to have your most hated student's blood in you than to have your most hated professor's blood in you.

"Hi, Ron," he said, trying to grin sheepishly.

"Why are you so jumpy?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," Harry said casually.

"Yeah," Ron said, but his tone spoke the opposite of his words. "So what did Dumbledore want?"

"Just wanted to tell me how important it is to focus on Occlemency," Harry said, getting into bed and pulling the covers up. "Nothing major." He didn't want to admit to having been adopted by Snape. He knew Ron would understand, he knew that Ron wouldn't make fun of him, but he still felt like the choice of parent was because no one else would take him.

"You sure jumped like it was major," Ron observed.

"It's nothing, Ron!" Harry insisted. "I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Good night," Ron said, concern obvious in his voice. Harry closed the curtains, and cast the silencing charm. His last thought before the potion knocked him out was that he hated having to close Ron and Hermione out like that.

.oO-Oo.

The next day, Harry worked through his classes on autopilot, just like he always did. He forced himself to eat for Hermione's sake, just like he always did. But after school was out, rather than hiding away in the dorm room, or the common room, just like he always did, he went outside to a large rock near the lake. The weather was unseasonably warm. Harry found it quite comfortable, especially since it was sunny, and the rock was warm. He stared off into the lake.

He was legally Harry Snape now. He grimaced at the thought. No amount of saying it was going to get him used to it. He was Harry Potter, and he would always be Harry Potter. Snape might be able to adopt him, and make him sign his documents "Harry Snape," but it didn't mean he stopped being Harry Potter.

Snape was going to kill him, Harry just knew it. Even if he was a spy for the Light, they still hated each other, and Harry didn't see how this was going to work at all. He was glad to be away from Vernon, very glad, but it didn't make his terror of Snape any less. Harry doubted that Snape was a pervert, but that didn't mean he wasn't sadistic. He began ticking off every possible punishment he could think of.

But all that time, he couldn't stop the panicked mantra of "I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm so dead," from repeating in his mind. The more he dwelled on it, the more frantic he became. He felt rolling waves of panic sweep over his mind, the dark shroud of despair, and finally, the warm blanket of exhaustion.

.oO-Oo.

"Oh, crap," Harry muttered as his eyes flew open. The world had gotten dark as he had slept. He'd slept peacefully for the first time in so long that Harry couldn't remember. No dreams at all. And no potion. Harry felt much refreshed for the snooze, but his mind was still panicking. "Oh, crap! I'm so dead!" He bit his lip and slipped off the rock. Staying out after curfew was specifically forbidden, and he hadn't been in Snape's care for more than twenty-four hours before he royally goofed. Well, delaying it any longer wasn't going to help. He was in such trouble that night and he knew it. Snape would surely have his hide for this.

He walked back to the castle and let himself in. Perhaps no one had noticed he was missing. Perhaps -

"MISTER HARRY POTTER!" McGonagall screeched. Well, so much for that idea.

"Yes, ma'am?" he said.

"Snape, Snape, it's Snape now," she rebuked herself quietly.

"You can call me Potter," Harry offered hopefully.

"Do you realize we've turned the castle upside down looking for you?"

"No, ma'am," Harry said. "Sorry."

"As well you should be," she glowered at him, and Harry made a mental note to never make his head of house mad at him like this again. "Go to Professor Snape's office, right now."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, as he walked down the hall to the much dreaded office. When he got there, he found the door unlocked, but Snape wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. Harry looked around. The office held new terrors for him, now that suddenly Snape was his father. His father could do anything to him - his professor couldn't. Each and every shadow seemed to be ready to jump out at him and hurt him in some way. He kept glancing over his shoulder as though something was about to surprise him from behind.

He began to shake with fear, even though he was alone. He felt sick, because he knew Snape would take him apart. Well, there was only one option. He would have to take whatever Snape dealt him in stride. He quickly pulled off his shirt, and undid his belt. It was better to get the beating over with as soon as he could. He hoped - he so hoped - that Snape would be satisfied with beating him. He knew that at the hands of a wizard as capable as Snape, things could be a lot worse. He just hoped it wouldn't go there.

Whether Snape believed it or not, he did command Harry's respect, if for no other reason than Harry's fear. So Harry waited, shirtless, belt in hand, as he waited for Snape to return.

.oO-Oo.

Severus was storming back to his office where he was going to meet the Boy-Who-Wished-He-Hadn't-Lived. At least, that was what Minerva had told Potter to do. Severus might not be fond of the boy, but he was worried about him, once they discovered he'd gone missing, though he kept telling himself that Potter was just sulking over the newest arrangements. Severus felt uncomfortable around Potter. He wasn't sure why, but something about Potter that had changed, and Severus felt uncomfortable around it, whatever it was. All he knew was that it was familiar, yet horrible. And his reaction to uncomfortable was to try to hurt whatever it was that made him that way. It was a simple fear reaction, he knew, to protect himself, but he had sworn not to hurt Potter not matter what. He burst into his office, glaring at him, cape billowing. He slammed the door behind him.

Potter stood contritely before him, quivering ever so slightly, shirtless, holding a belt. Severus could read the clear terror in Potter's eyes.

"Here, sir," Potter said, handing him the belt so quickly that he had to accept it. Harry went over to the wall, and braced himself against it, tightening every muscle. "I hope it's sufficient, sir," Potter continued, nervously stammering, "I didn't have a better one. If it's not suitable, you can use the buckle end. It hurts more."

Severus looked from the belt his hand to the boy braced against the wall, then back to the belt again. Did Potter really think he was going to beat him? Well, Severus supposed, Potter didn't know anything else, and he was the boy's most feared professor, now father. It wasn't like he had done much to inspire confidence in Potter. He'd done everything to make the boy believe that he was ruthless - which he certainly could be. Now Potter was expecting to be just as ruthless as he put on.

"Get over here, Potter," he growled. Cautiously, Potter left his position against the wall, and stood in front of him, clearly shaking in fear. Then the door burst open behind them with a loud bang.

.oO-Oo.

"Severus Snape, what are you doing?" McGonagall shouted. Snape whirled at her, belt still in hand.

"I promise you, it's not what it looks like," he hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure that everything was alright," she said suspiciously. Even she could tell that her Gryffindor was cowering under Snape's merciless gaze. "Harry?" she asked. "Is everything alright?" Harry nodded, still speechless from fear. He didn't want to have to be rescued. He was the rescuer. He was the one supposed to save the wizarding world. How could he be expected to defeat Voldemort if he couldn't even save himself?

"Get out of here, woman," Snape growled.

"If I hear you've hurt him," she threatened, purposely leaving it dangling. Snape sneered at her. Then Minerva turned at left abruptly. Snape turned back to him, coiling the belt around his hand. Harry's eyes followed Snape's movements with ever increasing vigilance.

"What is it you expect me to do with this, Potter?" he said, emphasizing the use of his biological father's name. Potter wrung his hands, and muttered something as he looked at the ground. "Speak clearly!" Snape barked.

"I said, beat me!" Harry replied.

"And why would I beat you?" Snape pushed.

"Because I stayed out past curfew," Harry said, tossing some hair out of his eyes. Maybe it was defiant, but Harry felt he had to do something to keep the last shreds of dignity he had left.

"That's why I should punish you, but why would I beat you?"

"Because - because," Harry stammered, "because you hate me? Because you adopted me so that you could 'discipline me right'? You want to get back at me for something my father did, but I'm not my father." Harry paused for breath. "Either of them."

"Potter," Snape said in his long suffering way, "I am not going to beat you. That is precisely what I meant by proper discipline."

"Sir?" Harry questioned. Snape sighed.

"Were you aware that I saw memories of what your relatives did to you?" Snape asked. Harry paled, and took a couple steps back. Oh, this wasn't good, Harry thought. This really, really wasn't good.

"No, sir," he said. "What did you see?" He was very wary of Snape now. He didn't know what to expect.

"Put your shirt on," Snape said. Harry complied. "And here's your belt. I saw the cupboard, the beatings, and any other number of things." Harry nodded. At least he hadn't seen last summer!

"Yes, sir," Harry said, hanging his head. "I'm sorry, sir."

"For what?" Snape asked, not unkindly, curious. Harry winced anyway.

"For - for that," he said. "For making you adopt me. You didn't want to."

"I'll admit, the thought is rather repulsive," Snape said, "as I'm sure you agree, but there are worse things. Child abuse being one of them."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Why were you out past curfew?" Snape continued.

"I fell asleep, sir," Harry said. "I didn't do it on purpose." Like Snape would ever believe that.

"I see," Snape said. "Why did you fall asleep?"

"I was tired?"

"Why?"

"I haven't been sleeping well, okay?" Harry snapped. It came out sharper than he meant it. "Sorry," he muttered, guarding his eyes, and looking at the ground, only risking a glance up at Snape every few seconds. Only when he felt that it was safer to know Snape's expression than to keep the meek body language.

"Why haven't you been sleeping well?" Harry mumbled something. "Speak up!" Snape hissed impatiently.

"Nightmares," Harry repeated.

"Of?"

"Stuff. Really, it's nothing." Harry began to take a couple steps back. He was scared of the questions Snape was asking. Snape was getting too close to the truth, and Harry somehow knew that he wouldn't be able to lie to Snape. It wasn't because Snape could tell if he was lying. It was because he simply didn't feel he could lie to Snape. But he couldn't tell Snape either. "Please, just leave me alone."

.oO-Oo.

He looked like he was bordering on a full nervous breakdown, Severus realized. Something was definitely more wrong with the boy than he had initially thought. Potter was hiding something from him, something serious. It didn't take an expert to see that Potter was starving himself over something too. One look at him prepared for the beating that would never come told him that.

"You need to tell me what's wrong!" he shouted.

"I can't, sir!" Potter said, finally breaking down to sobs. "I can't!" Potter covered his face with his hands.

"Tell me!" Severus tried again urgently. "You have to tell me!" Whatever it was, Severus wondered if perhaps it was beyond Potter's ability to speak of it. He would still try though.

"How? I can't!" Potter sobbed again.

"One sentence at a time," Severus said, calmer now, leaning against his desk. Scaring the boy further wasn't going to make it any easier to get answers. "Answer me one question at a time. Who is involved in this particular something?"

"Vernon and me," Potter said. He'd stopped crying, and taken his hands away from his face, but he was still looking at the ground. Potter was breathing raggedly and swallowing, trying to retain some sort of control over himself. Severus didn't expect Potter's weak grasp on control to last very long. He needed to get answers before Potter lost it for good.

"I see," Severus said. "Was it something he did to you?"

"Yes, sir," Potter said.

"What was it?" Severus notice Potter try to say it several times, but nothing came out. "Relax," he instructed, his voice taking on a deep, calm tone. "Breathe. Try to occlude. Just tell me."

"Rape," Potter finally said. Severus stood up immediately, clearly surprised. He didn't say anything for a moment.

"You? What? No," Severus finally stammered. Potter winced.

"I told you to leave me alone," he whispered.

"That's exactly the last thing you need!" Severus said, still alarmed. "How long?"

"The summer, and break," he shrugged. Severus nodded.

"Do you know why?"

"Yes, sir," Potter said. "Petunia has an affair, and won't sleep with Vernon. He turned to pornography, and then wanted to make it real. With me." Potter began to cry again, but it was just tears that silently ran down his cheeks, as he looked up at him. Potter was an image so pitiful that even Severus couldn't help noticing it. But what could he say to Potter?

"Pornography is a lie," Severus said quietly.

"I know," Potter said.

"Of course."

"You can go away now," Potter had the arrogance to say, though he didn't look arrogant as he said it. He looked like he actually expected him to go away, to leave him. "I know you don't want to deal with me, or this. I wouldn't blame you for giving me back to the Dursleys. Blood adoption might be permanent, but you can always back out. There's no rule saying that your son needs to live with you."

"I don't take my commitments that lightly, Potter," he said gently.

"I know," Potter said. "I release you from your commitment."

"I appreciate the gesture, Potter," Snape said sincerely, "but I did what I did with forethought, and I have no intention of taking you up on the offer."

"But there's no way you can understand. It's just not possible. You can't understand." Severus walked close to Potter, only a few feet away from him. Potter stood a full head shorter than he did, and it seemed like more, the way the boy was cowering still. Severus looked at him for a couple minutes, assessing the situation in silence. His eyes were cold, but his mind was working quickly.

"But I do, Harry," Severus finally said, taking that last step towards him, and bringing the crying child into an warm embrace. The boy began to cry into his robes, as Potter's arms reached around him, returning the gesture. "I do."


	4. The Price of Servitude

As Potter's arms crept around him, Severus sighed softly. Potter was now sobbing freely, and Severus felt him take fistfuls of his robes as he clung for support. Severus could sense that Potter's knees were close to giving out. Severus simply stood there, letting Potter cry his soul out. He didn't do anything; he didn't need to do anything.

"How?" Potter finally asked, after he regained some self-control and pulled his face from Severus' robes.

"How what?" Severus relied, loosening his grip on the boy.

"How do you understand?" Severus froze, and didn't respond immediately.

"That," he finally said stiffly, "is a different story, for a different time."

"Sir," Potter said, now fully in control, and pulling away from him, with a slightly accusatory tone, "I forgot that I wasn't worth your time outside of your interest in the war. Forgive me." His tone was cold, and Potter spun away, stalking to the door, where he reached for the handle. Severus pulled his wand, and spelled the door locked before Potter could open it. He didn't want the boy leaving. Not like that.

"You will turn around and come back here, Mr. Potter," Severus said quietly, but his tone was commanding. After a moment, Potter complied. He faced Severus. His - son - then clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin, as he glared at Severus. The loathing was clear in his gaze, and Severus realized that this was simply the same look he had given the boy many a time. Severus realized, also, that Potter only returned the feelings that were presented to him. Severus had never given him and reason to feel any other way about him. The only logical feelings that he could have about his professor were loathing and hatred.

"I was under the impression you wanted me?" Potter said, disdain dripping from his voice. It was then Severus realized that they had been silent for several minutes.

"Yes, your impression was correct," he said. "At least that observation. And as much as it pains me to say it, you are worth my time outside of the war effort." Potter snorted indignantly. "And what do you mean by that?" Severus challenged. "You've no idea how much I've given up for you."

"If you thought I was worth your time, you wouldn't..." Potter stopped, groping for the right words. "You wouldn't be you," he finally finished.

"Oh?" Severus said, his metaphorical feathers ruffling. He figured it would be best to let Potter get away with impertinence now, simply because he needed to vent and speak freely for once. The relationship of teacher and student had been altered, down to the very genetic makeup of it, and so why shouldn't their behavior change too? It wasn't that Severus intended on letting disrespect be a theme in their relationship - quite the opposite - but rather, he needed to know what the boy was thinking, and a share of it couldn't be expressed respectfully.

"Yes," Potter said, crossing his arms, and glaring harder. "You wouldn't turn every potions class into a living hell, where you simply sit back and ridicule and mock everything I do, no matter how hard I try for you! You wouldn't try to put me down all the time! You would assign fair punishments, and not favor Malfoy all the time! You would have told me about the adoption!" By the end of his speech, Potter had his hands in fists at his sides. Tears of anger shown in his eyes. Severus was silent, waiting to see if he was finished. When no further accusations were forthcoming, he shifted his position so he was leaning against the desk again and sighed.

"You're right," Severus said.

"What?" Potter said, relaxing his fists.

"Close your mouth before insects find it a habitable place," he drawled. He snapped the jaw he hadn't realized had fallen closed. "I said, you're right. And before taking you on as my - son," he seemed to almost choke on the word, "I swore to Dumbledore that I would act in a more acceptable manner. The whole point was to get you out of an abusive situation, even if we apparently didn't know to what extent. Putting you into another would defeat the purpose."

"You promised to be nice to me?" Potter said, apparently appalled at the thought. Severus sneered at him.

"Hardly," he drawled. "I promised I wouldn't act in an - immature - manner. Don't go putting words in my mouth, boy!" Potter visibly winced at the form of address. Severus noticed, and filed it away to not use that word again. He wasn't about to apologize - his pride was still too important for that - but he did intend to keep his promise.

"Yes, sir," Potter muttered. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Don't get the idea that I'm simply going to ignore you either," Severus continued. "I may not have any experience with raising children, but I know that ignoring them is not the preferred method. I expect a level of transparency. In other words, I expect you to be frank and honest with me, and I expect you to tell me when something is troubling you or if anything is wrong. I promise to never speak of anything said in confidence outside of these chambers. I wish to have at least one session with you once a week, to discuss your performance in school, and anything else that may come up, in addition to the standard Occlumency lessons. Of course, if you should ever need to speak to me, that is your prerogative. Is this clear?"

"Yes, sir," the boy said again, this time with more confidence. "But I presume this is only a one-way agreement?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, "that you expect me to be honest with you, and tell you what's on my mind, but you won't answer my questions."

"What questions are those?" It would prove to be a fatal question.

.oO-Oo.

"You insist you can understand," Harry accused, feeling confused and conflicted. "But you won't tell me how. How? How can you? You can't! You're simply an old dungeon bat and you can't understand anything that's ever happened to anyone!" Harry clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide. He hadn't meant to say that. Pulling his hand away, he tried to amend what he had said. "Sorry, I mean, that's what it looks like you are," and then he descended into something of a panicked babble.

"Shut up," Snape said, annoyed to the limit. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and Harry "shut up." Neither said anything.

"Sorry, sir," Harry muttered.

"Accepted," Snape returned. They fell into silence again. Harry glanced at Snape as he hung his head. He hated the quiet that had enveloped the room, but he didn't want to be the one to break it. Snape hadn't given him permission to leave, so he didn't dare turn away. "My business is my own," Snape finally said, glaring coldly at him. "How or why I can understand is something that doesn't concern you - simply that I can."

"So the transparency is one way," Harry muttered sullenly.

"You don't want to know!" Snape hissed at him, pushing himself up from the desk and standing a few feet opposite him, fists clenched.

"No, don't tell me what I do and don't want to know," Harry said, gathering his Gryffindor courage. "You don't want me to know."

"Fine," Snape agreed. "I don't. But I still expect you to tell me what goes through your, luckily, incredibly thick skull."

"Luckily?" Snape looked at him curiously, like he were an interesting bug.

"Any less thick of a skull would have been broken over the summer."

.oO-Oo.

Harry was dismissed and went to his dormitory, where he sank gratefully onto his bed, forgetting to even change his clothes. Snape had kept him late, and everyone else was already sleeping.

"That you, Harry?" Ron muttered as he rolled over.

"Yeah," Harry returned tiredly. "It's me."

"You okay?"

"Of course I am."

"Why did you get sent to Snape?" Harry paused, unsure how to answer.

"I'm tired, Ron. Good night." There was another pause.

"Good night, Harry."

.oO-Oo.

Next day, in Potions, Harry couldn't help but let his gaze follow Snape. Every so often, Snape would stop mid-sentence in his lecture and look at him, but Harry wondered if it was perhaps his imagination. Or maybe Snape had always done this, and he hadn't noticed. Harry was having difficulty concentrating, both from fatigue but also from curiosity. He wanted to know what Snape was hiding, but he could only come up with one idea. Variations on that idea, yes, but only one basic idea.

Harry would have pitied Snape, he thought, except that pity was the last thing he wanted. He felt that he should just let Snape keep his secrets, but he wanted to know if his hunch was right. He needed to know.

There it was again. This time Harry was sure he hadn't imagined it. Snape stumbled on his rehearsed lecture and looked at him. Harry returned this gaze, trying to send the impression that he was actually paying attention, though he was sure Snape knew he wasn't. But when Snape looked at him now, it wasn't with the typical hatred of years and lessons previous. But rather Snape looked at him with a similar curiosity to that which Harry currently looked at Snape.

.oO-Oo.

That night was another Occlumency lesson. Harry wasn't sure whether to dread it or not. If Snape had promised to be civil to him, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have feared that Snape would jeer or mock him for his - well, weaknesses, - but he wasn't sure Snape could. Harry knocked on the door.

"Come in," Snape's voice said. He sounded annoyed, yes, but it wasn't like his usual annoyance. So Harry stepped in. Snape was sitting at his desk writing something.

"Sorry I'm late," he began, even though his watch showed three minutes early. Snape rolled his eyes dramatically.

"You're not, so stop apologizing," he drawled without looking up from his writing.

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"If your demonstrations in Potions are anything to go by, your concentration skills haven't improved any," Snape observed casually.

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, hanging his head. He'd better prepare for a whole lecture about how he needed to focus better on his school.

"You're distracted," Snape continued. Harry nodded. "What is distracting you?" So Harry could give the honest answer, or he could make something up. He was on the verge of explaining that Ron and Hermione were having a fight, when Snape looked up and made eye contact with him.

"You never explained," Harry suddenly accused. "How can I ever learn to trust you if you won't explain?"

"Explain what?" Snape sighed.

"Why - why you say you can understand," Harry stammered.

"Is it really that big a deal?" Snape said. "Maybe I'm just empathetic."

"Or maybe you're not," Harry said.

"Or maybe it's not appropriate for me to speak of it!" Snape burst out, bringing his hand down on his desk loudly. Harry jumped. He was just glad Snape hit the desk and not him. He needed to know how far he could push Snape.

"Or maybe you just won't," Harry said, "because you're ashamed of something. The same way I'm ashamed," he added. Snape sneered at him.

"As I have said before, you would do well to not worry yourself with those things which do not concern you." Snape picked up his quill and began to write again, signaling the finality of the conversation. But Harry wasn't going to take another no for an answer.

"But it does concern me!" Harry protested.

"How?" Snape demanded suddenly. "How does my life concern you?"

"Why does my life concern you?" Harry returned.

"Because you're the Boy-Who-Lived," Snape said. "And because of the adoption." His voice dropped its volume a bit at the second reason.

"And do you remember at the - adoption," Harry spat the word, "that there were red and green ribbons that bound our hands?"

"I do believe I was conscious for this incident, yes," Snape said in an acerbic tone.

"The red ribbons symbolized your obligation to me," Harry said, "but the green symbolized my obligation to you. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Red and green. Whether you want it or not, you're stuck with me, and whether I want it or not, I'm stuck with you. As much as you maintain that you're the only one with an obligation here, it doesn't work that way." Harry looked thoughtful. "That's especially why not telling me was the worst thing you could do." Snape made a face at Harry.

"Get to the point," he snapped. Harry placed his hands on Snape's desk and leaned his face close to the dungeon bat's.

"If you expect to fill the position as my father, then you better allow me to fill the position as your son!" The two glared at each other.

"Are you threatening me, Potter?" he whispered, eyes narrowed at Harry.

"Yes," Harry said. "I'm threatening you by pointing out that you can't be my father - and I won't ever accept you as such - unless I also am your son."

"You don't even want to be my son," Snape said, almost sound hurt if it were possible, as he looked back over his papers.

"You might not be my first choice," Harry said rapidly, "but we're here, you are, and I am."

"Why are you so intent on this bond being more than what is strictly necessary?" Snape asked, sounding exasperated.

"I don't know!" Harry said, because he'd puzzled over the very same question. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that your blood runs through me and my blood runs through you."

"I see," Snape said. "As long as it wasn't only me."

"Sir?"

"As long as I wasn't the only one being affected by the blood adoption." Harry almost smiled.

"So does that mean that we're going to try?"

"I don't need you to look after me," Snape said. "I'm more than capable, thank you." Harry nodded and looked disappointed.

"Then I can take care of myself too." Harry's voice was hollow. "Shall we continue with Occlumency?" Snape rose and attacked Harry's mind, but Harry pushed back equally hard. It was the force of Harry's emotions that gave him strength against Snape. The exertion was so much that Harry fell against Snape. Snape caught him and supported him.

"Was it my father?" he asked weakly, still in Snape's arms.

"What nonsense are you babbling now?"

"Was it my father who did it to you?" Harry asked again, slightly stronger. "Or Sirius? Is that why you hate them so much?"

"Did what? Talk sense, Potter!" Snape almost shook Harry, but didn't, Harry felt, because of his word. Harry took a moment to be able to spit out the words.

"Did they - violate you?" His voice was not above a hoarse whisper.

"Did they - ? What? No!" Snape stammered. "They were jerks, yes, but not - not like that!" Harry saw his opportunity to press Snape further.

"Then who?"

"No one!"

"I'm not a fool! Despite what you may think!" Both were shouting at the other. "Father," Harry added quietly, for emphasis.

"You won't rest until I tell you," Snape observed.

"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "Who did it?"

"'Who does it?'" Snape corrected. "Not did - does." Snape glared at Harry, who looked horrified. Harry felt like he was going to choke on something. He'd only thought about something having happened to Snape in the past. How? How could it be a continuing thing for Snape? What would - what could - make Snape suffer something like that?

"Then who does it?" Harry asked, still in shock. Snape looked at him long and hard, as if weighing the information.

"The Dark Lord, now go," he said all in one breath. "You have your information, now leave."

"Voldemort?" Harry asked, stunned, totally ignoring the instructions to leave. Snape hissed at him as he grabbed his left forearm.

"Don't use his name!" Snape growled. "Unless you wish to cause me pain."

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, sincere. "I - I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't." Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"The Dark Lord?" Harry amended.

"That's what I said, wasn't it?" Snape said, his voice almost breaking, Harry thought, as he still seemed in pain. Harry truly hadn't known that Voldemort's named would cause Snape pain like that. He would be careful to never say it around Snape again.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "But - why?"

"Why did your uncle - ?"

"Because, well because he didn't have anyone else, and I couldn't run away!"

"You've answered your own question," Snape said, his voice quiet, and the lingering signs of pain faded.

"But you - you don't have to be around him, do you?" Harry pressed.

"I'm sure you're already well acquainted with the fact that I am a spy," Snape drawled. "Name one other person who could carry intelligence from the Dark Lord to Dumbledore."

"There isn't one," Harry muttered, wincing.

"Exactly."

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"Of course," Snape said, raising an eyebrow. "You don't think I've begged to be released from this?"

"Then why doesn't he find another person? Create a new spy if necessary?"

"Because I am still the best choice, both for believability and Occlumency skills," Snape said, taking his seat again.

"And why don't you just quit? Dumbledore can't make you if you refuse!"

"This is true," Snape conceded. "But I can't refuse."

"Why not? Why don't you just stop being a spy?"

"Then who would protect you?" Snape's voice was deathly quiet, and he raised his eyes to look at Harry. The pain in them made Harry recoil suddenly.

"What?" he asked, his voice as flat as a board.

"Don't you understand, Potter?" Snape said, his voice suddenly tight with emotion. "Don't you understand?" He banged his hand on the desk for emphasis as he rose. "Someone needs to keep intelligence traveling between Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, and I'm the only one who can! I do it to keep you safe. I loved your mother, and I swore to protect you. If this is how I need to protect you, then let it be." Harry heard Snape's voice from a few days ago echo in his mind. "You've no idea how much I've given up for you."

"You're right," Harry mumbled, "I had no idea. I'm sorry." He met Snape's eyes, and tried to communicate his sincerity.

"It's not your fault," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "It's no one's fault but the Dark Lord's."

"Yes, it is!" Harry shouted, bringing his fist down on the desk in emphasis. "It's the fault of anyone who knows and doesn't do anything about it. They're just as guilty as Vol - I mean, the Dark Lord!"

"No!" Snape shouted back at him. "It doesn't work that way. Even when Dumbledore has offered me a chance of escape, how can I, when there's no one else to fill my place? How can I not spy when the Dark Lord will simply call me back?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I joined the Death Eaters, I signed my fate," Snape said in a long suffering way. "The Dark Lord can summon me whenever he pleases - whether or not I spy at all. I may as well be summoned and spy rather than simply be summoned." Harry bit his lip and nodded. "Now go," Snape said weakly. He ran his hand over his face, as he leaned back in his chair. "Please, just go." Harry stepped around Snape's desk, and placed his hand gently on Snape's shoulder.

"When someone told you the very same thing, you said that was the last thing he needed," Harry said quietly. Snape sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly. He placed his hand over Harry's.


	5. Payment of Debts

Severus cleaned up the papers on his desk. Potter had finally left, and he was ready to sleep. It didn't come out easy, his secrets. But Potter had a point, that the bond was a two way street. It had just never occurred to him that Potter would care. Perhaps the adoption had done something to how they felt about each other.

He grabbed a fistful of the papers and threw them into the fire. They were simply his thoughts after various events with the Dark Lord. Panic and drivel, but it helped him cope. He watched as the papers shriveled in the fire. Then he felt his left arm twinge. He folded his hands over his mouth. He couldn't, not now. How could he keep his Occlumency shields up now? He was much too vulnerable. His arm throbbed again.

"Coming, coming," Severus muttered. But he had to. Somehow he'd always survived, and he'd survive again now. Severus threw some floo powder into the fire, over the remnants of his papers, and flooed to the usual meeting place.

"You called, my lord?" Severus said, stepping out of the fireplace. It was the Dark Lord's personal manor. Calming his emotions, Severus put up his Occlumency shields.

"Yes, I did," Voldemort said. Severus glanced up at him. At least he had spelled away his noseless snake features, he thought. The man he saw was Tom Riddle, not the Voldemort that everyone had come to associate with the name.

"No, please don't, Tom," Severus breathed, as he shivered. He was still fearful. But the Dark Lord had instructed him to use his given name when he glamored himself. He glanced at Tom, and backed up a step. "You know I don't - " He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yet you come every time," Tom pointed out silkily as he approached the cowering Severus.

"Because you are my lord," Severus said. Tom stood only inches from him. They were the same height, but Severus' contrite posture made it look that Tom was taller. Tom reached out and ran his fingers through Severus' long black hair. "Please, no."

"Severus," Tom said. "When will you learn? I don't care what you want. Begging only increases my lust. Squirming only makes it more fun." Severus closed his eyes and grimaced. Tom threw him against the wall, and pressed his body close. Tom ran his tongue over his lips as he looked over Severus. Wordlessly, he began to undo each button of Severus' shirt. Tom almost purred in delight as he finally pushed the shirt from Severus' shoulders. Tom ran his hands over Severus' exposed chest, until he dropped his hands and undid the button on his trousers. When Tom was finished, both with Severus and himself, he turned Severus to face the wall.

"Mind if I just - Slyther in?" he chuckled. Severus dropped his gaze, unable to speak at all. Tom knew what this was, and he didn't care. All Severus could think about was screaming no. Perhaps it was his only defense against giving away secrets was his total opposition. Severus felt the familiar pain as Tom was true to his word. Tom gripped his hard by his hips, and they sank together to the ground, where Tom held him on top.

"Oh, Severus," Tom whispered. "Still as good as ever." He began to bite at Severus' ear. Severus sighed in resignation. This was how it always went. There was nothing he could do, but he would try anyway. He slammed his skull back against Tom's nose. He heard a satisfying crunch as it broke. There was a sputtering behind him. Tom whispered something incoherent, and suddenly Severus' hands were very literally tied behind his back.

"Please, no," Severus begged. He never begged, except when Tom tore away all shreds of dignity. Tom rolled over, slamming Severus' jaw into the hard stone floor. He tasted blood as he teeth tore his mouth. As Tom pressed Severus face against the floor, he hissed something in Parseltongue.

Nagini slithered out from a hiding place in the wall. She hissed something back at Tom, who responded in kind. She began to work her way around both of them, squeezing them tightly together, until Severus couldn't move. Actually, Tom couldn't move either, but he had control of Nagini.

"My lord," Severus choked out as Nagini forced air out of his lungs, "I can't breathe."

"Perhaps that's what my little wretch deserves," Tom whispered back. "You aren't exactly being cooperative." As if on cue, Severus felt blood drop on his neck. And it was the last thing he knew.

.oO-Oo.

Severus woke with a start, as a cool cloth was laid on his forehead. Quickly, he reached out and grabbed the wrist holding the cloth. With unseeing eyes, he brought the person to his or her knees and the definitely male voice let out a cry of pain.

"Potter," Severus breathed, as he released the boy. "Why are you here?"

"To apologize," Potter said.

"For what?" Severus asked weakly. He was still in pain from the previous ordeal - he couldn't tell how long ago.

"I - I'm sorry," Potter stammered, wringing the cloth nervously until there was a puddle on the floor. "I really didn't mean to, sir, I didn't."

"Stop blathering and get to the point, Potter!" Severus growled.

"I fell into your pensieve, sir," he said, all in one breath. "I'm sorry, it was an accident."

"Why were you here in the first place?" Severus saw that they were in his chambers, his pensieve standing a few feet away.

"I wanted to make sure everything was alright. You'll say it was stupid, I know, but something was telling me that it wasn't. And it was dark, and I walked into the pensieve, sir. I'm sorry, sir." Potter looked like he was bordering on a nervous breakdown - probably because he was.

"And you saw the last memory I had in there?" Severus said, as he raised himself on one elbow. He winced in pain. Nagini had left thorough bruises all over his torso. It was then he noticed that he was dressed in pajamas.

"Yes, sir," Potter said, nodding vigorously, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, sir." Potter was still on his knees, and he reached out with his cloth to dab at Severus' face.

.oO-Oo.

Harry stumbled into the pensieve, and found himself in one of Snape's memories. It was a dark, damp stone room, and there were only two people in the room, Snape and Tom Riddle. This must have been years ago, Harry realized, because this Snape was younger than he ever remembered him. Snape knelt before Tom, as Tom took a firm hold of Snape's hair with both hands, and demanded entrance into Snape's mouth.

Harry was horrified, but couldn't look away. As Tom pushed down his throat, Snape began to choke. But Tom didn't pay attention. He simply pounded harder. Finally, Snape collapsed from lack of air.

The memory skipped then, and Harry saw Snape, disrobed, lying on the stone floor with Tom, in an equally unclothed state, standing over him. Snape had shackles on his wrists as he shook his head to clear his mind.

"An excellent job, my pretty," Tom cooed. Snape tried to sit up, his eyes fearful, as he assessed the helplessness of his position.

"My lord," he said, "if there's anything else I can do - anything - " Tom sneered at him.

"I see why they call you Snivellus," he drawled. Snape winced. "Sniveling like you are, it makes for an accurate name, don't you think?" Snape shuddered.

"Yes, my lord," he muttered, letting his long black hair obscure his vision as he hung his head. Tom grabbed the handcuffs, dragged Snape to his feet, and threw him against the wall.

"Stay standing," Tom warned, and wincing, Snape obeyed. Tom walked over to Snape casually, and pulled Snape's arms above his head, hooking them there. Harry thought he saw Snape shudder again, but he couldn't be sure. Tom knocked Snape's legs apart, and more shackles grew from the walls, as if on cue, holding Snape there. Tom stood back to admire his work.

Snape stood there, red with shame and humiliation. Even when he tried to shield himself with his hair, Harry could still make out just how humiliated he was. And he felt for Snape. Just as Snape had said he could understand Harry, now Harry could understand Snape as well. He felt his eyes well up, and he began to blink furiously. Finally, he gave up and dragged his sleeve across his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," Harry whispered, even though memory Snape couldn't hear.

"Let me hear you beg," Tom said. He summoned a riding crop, and began to tap it menacingly into his hand.

"My lord," Snape began, breathing heavily, but erratically, "no." Tom sprang forward, and brought the riding crop down hard against Snape's cheek, hard enough to cause his head to spin to the side. Snape's abuser drew himself up close, and ran his hand gently against the angry red mark.

"Don't you ever say no to me," Tom said very seductively. "No is not an option. You can either start begging now, or we can do this the hard way and I can force it out of you." Tom ran the tip of the crop over Snape's chest, and finally, pushing it against his chin, forced eye contact. "Now which will it be?" Snape closed his eyes, and let out one shuddering breath, almost a sob, but not quite.

"Please, my lord," Snape began.

"That's better, Snivellus," Tom smirked. "Keep it up."

Harry wanted to look away and cover his ears, but he was frozen watching the awful scene play out before him. Harry felt terrible. He wanted to rush at memory Riddle and thrash him within an inch of his life. No, he wanted to kill him.

"I'm not worth this!" Harry whispered to himself.

"Don't do this," Snape continued pleading. "Please. I'll do anything you want, just please, anything but this." Tom lunged forward and struck Snape across his torso. Snape tried to double over, but his bonds wouldn't allow it.

"I thought - I thought if I begged," Snape stammered through the pain, "I thought you wouldn't do it." Tom smiled at him. If it had been in any other situation, Harry thought it would have been quite a handsome, innocent smile. But the circumstances just made it look all the eviler.

"Surprise is the name of the game, is it not?" Tom said.

"No," Snape choked out, "abuse and rape."

"Through which I use surprise," Tom said. "But enough verbal banter." He struck Snape again and the beating continued. After several minutes, Tom put the crop between his teeth and pressed his flesh against Snape's. Tom growled quietly in his throat.

"Just get it over with," Snape almost whimpered, still in an obvious great deal of pain. Tom ran his hands up Snape's chest until they gripped the hair on the back of his head. Tom bent Snape's head to his own, and kissed him roughly, the crop still between them. He snapped Snape's head back suddenly, causing him to gasp in pain.

"Severus, Severus," Tom said, after he pulled the crop from his mouth and dropped it next to them. "Are you - ready now?" Snape looked like he wanted to throw up - he probably did - but he nodded. "I can't hear that," Tom whispered.

"I am," Snape said.

"You are what?"

"I'm ready."

"For?" Tom smiled cruelly. "Go on. Say it."

"I'm ready for - for you - " Snape's voice broke. Tom grabbed the forgotten crop and struck him where it would hurt them most. Snape bit his lip until it bled.

"I'm ready for you to rape me!" Snape cried out, the pain, both physical and mental, apparent in his voice. He choked out one heart wrenching sob, and said, "Just do it."

"That's better," Tom said, releasing Snape from his bonds. He fell in a heap on the floor. Tom kicked Snape in the skull with the ball of his foot. "Come on, present yourself. You know how I like it." Snape, weak with pain and fatigue, knelt, bent over, and placed his forehead on the floor. He covered the back of his head with his arms.

Harry covered his face, unable to watch. Riddle hadn't had any courtesy with Snape, Harry had noticed. It drove the point home for Harry that Riddle wasn't under any sort of delusion that Snape should like what was happening. Riddle was only using Snape and throwing him away when he was finished. Harry wasn't sure which situation was worse, his or Snape's.

He wanted to tear his eardrums out. Riddle's moans and Snape's stifled cries were assaulting him, even if he refused to watch.

Harry collapsed when he was spit out of the pensieve when the memory ended. It was then that Harry realized he was weeping freely. How long, he didn't know. But judging my the fact that the memory ended, Snape was no where to be found. This disturbed Harry more than a little.

Why was he even here again? Oh, because he'd had a dream, a vague one - he couldn't remember anything - which told him to go check on Snape. Harry was legitimately worried now.

Snape's unconscious body, followed by his clothes, were sent through the fireplace. They landed with a thud at Harry's feet.

.oO-Oo.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry." Snape glared at him, and Harry hung his head, even though he was cooling his professor's - his father's - feverish forehead.

"Why didn't you leave as soon as you'd fallen in?" he growled threatening. Harry winced at the tone.

"I don't know how, sir," Harry said. "Dumbledore pulled me out the only other time I was in one." Snape sighed exasperatedly.

"Give me that," he snapped, as he grabbed the cloth away from Harry. Harry immediately stood up and took two large steps away from the man.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured. He bit his lip contritely. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

"Yes!" Snape said, sitting up the rest of way, poorly hiding a wince. "You can go obliviate yourself! Forget you ever were here tonight, and don't you dare come back. Ever." Harry watched with every increasing horror as Snape finished. He hadn't realized just how much those words were going to hurt. Harry supposed it was because Snape was the only person on the face of the earth - outside of Vernon and himself, of course - who had any concept of what had happened that summer and break.

He was being rejected by the one being who shared that secret.

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, unable to control the first tear that leaked out of the corner of his eye. He turned and walked over to the door. Snape sighed loudly.

"Harry Snape, you fool, get back here," he said, the eye roll clear in his tone. Harry stopped and turned to look at his elder. There was a small light of hope in his eyes.

"Yes, sir?" Harry said as he edged his way back.

"Obliviating yourself is very dangerous," Snape said, calmer, though he was sneering very lightly, "and with your Gryffindor stupidity, you'd probably try it too. And it would be difficult to have remedial potions without my private laboratory."

That was the closest thing Harry had ever heard to an apology from Snape, and he was willing to accept it as such.

"Yes, sir," he said, smiling ever so slightly. "Thank you, sir." Snape nodded his acknowledgement.

"How did you get past Filch?" Snape asked. Harry reached into his bag and pulled out the invisibility cloak, throwing it around himself. Snape raised an eyebrow, and Harry put it away. "I see," Snape said. "It's dangerous for you to wander the castle at night, cloak or no. And since I am not about to walk you back to your lion's den, you're stuck here till morning." Snape grabbed his wand and transfigured a small table into a cot. "Go sleep there."

"Yes, sir," he said. Gratefully, Harry sank down on it and lay on his side.

"And - Potter," Snape said, sounding more unsure than Harry had ever heard him, "thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry said, feeling more warmed by those two words than he ever thought he would be. Snape lay back down on the couch.

"Sir?" Harry said after a moment. "Do you - have any dreamless sleep potion?"

"Sleeping in my chambers is that bad?" Snape drawled, though the amusement was clear in my voice. Harry chuckled a little bit, albeit nervously.

"No, sir," he said. "I was just wondering."

"I'm a potions master," Snape announced. "Of course I have dreamless sleep. Why do you need it?"

"It's nothing, Professor," Harry shrugged.

"If it were nothing, you wouldn't have asked," Snape pointed out. "You have nightmares?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed after a moment. Snape nodded, though Harry couldn't see.

"What do you normally do about them?"

"I have some dreamless sleep in the dormitory."

"From Madame Pomfrey?"

"Uh..." Harry paused. "Yeah, sort of."

"Which is like saying no. You're making it?" Harry was silent a moment.

"Yeah," he whispered.

"How strong and how often?" Snape pressed calmly.

"As strong as I can make it and every night," Harry said, his voice almost dejected. "I can't sleep without it." He thought he heard Snape mutter something about "the idiot boy."

"In the cupboard over there," Snape sighed, and pointed. "Take a double dose."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, getting up and doing as he was instructed.

"It's not healthy, you know," Snape commented once Harry was back on his cot.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said weakly. "Not sleeping isn't healthy either."

"I know," Snape whispered. They were silent for a few minutes.

"How do you deal with the nightmares?" Harry asked finally.

"Lucid dream," Snape said, not even bothering to deny their existence. "I'll teach you."

"Thank you," Harry said, the sound of sleep heavy in his voice. "Good night, sir."

"Good night," Snape whispered back as he also drifted into a twilight.


	6. No Post on Sunday

There was no post on Sundays. And that, Vernon Dursley had stated, was his reason why Sunday was his favorite day. He leaned back, alone in the house, as always on Sunday, opened the morning paper, and began to sip his tea.

He looked up when there was a scratching at the window. A brown owl was scratching for admittance, and Vernon saw that there was a parchment tied to his leg. With a sigh of annoyance, he let the owl in. It was undoubtedly about Harry, perhaps the Easter holiday. Though he thought it was a little early. Well, whatever it was about, he was going to ask for Harry back over Easter break too. He liked having his whore around. He grinned. It would have been deemed quite a wicked grin if anyone was there to see it.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,

The Ministry of Magic hereby informs you that the custody of one, Harry James Potter, has been removed from you and transferred to Severus Snape. After applying, and given the endorsement of Albus Dumbledore, the blood adoption preformed will protect the Savoir of the wizarding world more efficiently. We wish to thank you for your years of service to our kind.

Sincerely,

Minister Fudge

A year ago, if Vernon had received this letter, he would have framed it, and he knew that. Right now, he wanted to tear the paper to shreds, deny its existence, and demand Harry back for Easter. But what little part of his mind remained rational told him that that would be pointless. Instead, he crumpled it and threw it on the table. He shooed the owl out the window and slammed it shut.

Collapsing into the chair, Vernon unwrinkled the letter, and reread it. He knew the only reason he wanted the freak back was so that he could use him. But he didn't want to go to anyone else, or use anyone else. After all, it was wrong to use a normal person. But Harry was just a freak, a freak among freaks, even. It was that scar that had given him the idea after all, that perhaps it wasn't so wrong to have his own whore. The thought of a prostitute, male or female, repulsed him. He didn't want to have to share.

His only hope was to get in contact with this Severus Snape and arrange for regular visits with his nephew.

.oO-Oo.

Harry woke with a start, and almost fell out of his cot. Instinctively, he had grabbed his wand and was vaguely pointing it at anything that threatened to move. Why wasn't he in his dormitory? What had happened?

"Finally up, I see," a familiar voice drawled from behind him. Harry whirled and lowered his wand. Suddenly he remembered the previous night, and he shuddered.

"Yes, sir," Harry said nervously. Snape was dressed in his usual robes, and he had his wand at the ready. Similar to how he carried his wand, Harry noticed. But then, they probably had similar reasons. Harry was really trying to gauge Snape, but his face was unreadable like usual. "Good morning," he finally said.

"Good morning," Snape returned, almost pleasantly. "Your head of house contacted me this morning about your absence. I assured her that everything was alright, and you were with me. In case she asks you anything." He raised his eyebrow in a silent warning.

"Yes, sir. We were discussing the nature of potions, especially dreamless sleep," Harry said.

"I know exactly what we were doing," Snape said, with a highly contorted smirk on his face. "I was there." Harry tried not to snicker, and failed. It really wasn't funny, but it was. And apparently Snape agreed judging from his failing attempts not to smirk. "But back to the potions, you've abused dreamless sleep. You've seriously abused it."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, suddenly losing any desire to laugh. He was in trouble now. "I know, sir. But I only did it because - "

"I know why you did it," Snape cut off. "If it means anything to you, I understand. But that doesn't mean that what you've done to yourself is any less harmful."

"I don't see what's so horrible about it," Harry sulked. "I'm still here, aren't I? I don't think I would be without it. And it's not like it's hurting me. I just need to take it at night." Snape rolled his eyes.

"It's a drug addiction is what it is," Snape said shortly. Harry winced at the phrase. Technically, he supposed it was. But it wasn't like what Muggles called drug addiction. He was only seeking an escape from something to horrible for him to properly name most of the time. Then he reminded himself that that was why some Muggles took drugs too.

"But it doesn't hurt me," Harry repeated. "So what if I have to take it?"

"It does hurt you!" Snape said.

"How?" Harry challenged, his eyes narrowing. He wasn't ready to give up the only thing that made sleep bearable.

"Are you having trouble concentrating in class?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow as a challenge.

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Are you forgetting things?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled again, this time with a wince.

"And how does it feel when you realize you need to take it every night? When you go and drink it?"

"I feel like I'm - weak - and that I'll not take it tomorrow night, but I never do," Harry quietly admitted.

"And you don't think this is hurting you?"

"Maybe the last thing is connected to the dreamless sleep," Harry admitted, his voice almost petulant, "but the other two aren't from the potion!"

"Oh, yes they are," Snape contradicted. "Your brain needs to dream. And how long have you been denying your mind that?"

"Since about halfway through the school year," Harry shrugged, guiltily. "Before that, I used it off and on."

"Right," Snape said, so for two months you've been trying to make your brain not dream. It fails sometimes, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Harry confirmed.

"Because if it didn't, you would die," Snape said quietly. Then more loudly, "When you dream, your brain cools itself by several degrees. If it doesn't, you inflict brain damage on yourself. It kills off brain cells, which is why you're struggling to concentrate and remember. Do you see now?" Harry hung his head. If the potion did all that, then yes, he could see how it was hurting him.

"But the dreams will hurt me more," he whispered. When he looked up at Snape, his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"No, they won't," Snape insisted. "I can help - "

"You can't!" Harry suddenly shouted. In his wild grief and anger, he lost control of himself and grabbed his professor's shirt front for emphasis. Perhaps he was also reaching out for a pillar in storm too great for him to weather alone. "Do you know what I have to suffer through every time I dream?" Harry shouted. "Do you? I have to relive night after night with Vernon! Every time I dream! It was bad enough three times a week with him. I can't stand every night. I just can't. And you know what the worst part is? I enjoyed it!" He broke down and leaned his head against Snape, trying to regain control of himself. "I enjoyed it," he sobbed miserably.

Snape rolled his eyes as though he had an audience and had to apologize to them. Then he embraced Harry, and waited for the boy to collect himself.

"Care to explain?" was all he said, once the sobbing had slowed.

"No, sir," Harry said, pulling away, embarrassed and guilty, "We - I need to get to classes." He turned, refusing to meet Snape's eyes, and began to pick up his bag.

"It's Saturday," Snape reminded Harry gently.

"Oh," Harry said, suddenly stopping, and dropping his bag back where it was. That meant that Snape could keep him as long as he wanted, really. He would make him talk about everything, Harry knew. You just couldn't say no to Snape and get away with it.

"Care to explain?" Snape tried again, as he sat down on the sofa facing the empty fireplace. With a flick of his wand, there was a raging fire, and two steaming mugs on the coffee table. "Come over and sit down," he said gently, picking up a mug and handing it to Harry. Nervously, as if expecting a trap, Harry made his way around the couch and perched himself on the edge. He couldn't help but think the last time he had sat on a couch, alone with another man, this nervously - he stopped his thoughts there. He couldn't afford to get caught up in that memory, not now.

Snape must have seen how upset he was because suddenly he said, "You can put your feet on the couch if you take your shoes off." Quickly, Harry did just that and tucked his feet under him, and turned sideways on the sofa. It did make him feel a lot safer, and a lot more relaxed actually. "Here," Snape continued once Harry was settled, handing him the mug. "Chocolate is good for more than just dementors."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, with an apologetic smile. Snape picked up his own, and blew on it before taking a sip.

"Care to explain?" he tried for a third time. Harry put down the chocolate and glared at Snape, his lips pressed into a pale line. Then, while Snape patiently waited for an answer, Harry's breathing quickened, and he sucked his lips into his mouth. He began to blink quickly.

"I hate this," he whispered. "I never cried. Now I cry over everything. Why?"

"Because that's not true," Snape said. "You don't cry over everything. Just one thing. And you would have always cried over it. And you always will unless you come to grips with it."

"Yeah," Harry said bitterly. He would have made some self-insulting comment, but nothing came to him that didn't equally insult the man sitting across from him. Snape let him stew for a few moments before handing him the mug again.

"Take a sip," he ordered softly. Harry did as he was told, but showed no reaction save some color returning to his too pale cheeks. "You're starving yourself too."

"I am not," Harry contradicted quickly.

"Alright," Snape agreed. "Then why are you a walking skeleton?"

"Food doesn't taste good," Harry mumbled.

"Your hunger doesn't drive you to eat more even if you're not fond of it? Are you sure there isn't more?" Snape questioned.

"No," Harry said hesitantly, unsure how much information he wanted to divulge.

"What else is there?" Snape took another sip.

"I thought - that maybe if I, you know," Harry stalled and waved his hand to indicate that he thought that Snape understood.

"You thought that if you starved yourself..." Snape provided the concept that Harry couldn't say.

"Yeah," Harry agreed reluctantly, "that maybe Vernon would want to." He winced at how he couldn't even make himself say these things. He'd seen it; he'd done it. Why couldn't he name it?

"Did it ever work?"

Harry was immediately caught up in a memory from over the summer. He was lying on the bed, fully clothed, so that Vernon could personally disrobe him, as so often had Harry do. He felt cold, almost like a dementor was close. It didn't feel quite like that, but he wondered if he would ever feel happy again. His uncle stripped and looked his body over as he lay there. Vulnerable. Weak. Whore. Slut. Vernon got on the bed, and pulled him into a sitting position.

"Kneel," Vernon instructed, so Harry did without a word of protest. He had already done his protesting and lost. Sure, he would plead as Vernon thrust into him, he knew, but he also knew it would do no good. Vernon ran his hands through the boy's hair with the passion that was a lie. That was all this was, Harry told himself for the umpteenth time, a lie. Vernon didn't care about him at any level, even a sick and twisted level. He only used him for the pleasure he could bring. And Vernon had the idea that he had to pleasure Harry in return. He really wished that Vernon wouldn't, but he hadn't even been able to convince him of that.

Vernon reached under Harry's t-shirt and lifted it off of him. Harry felt a shudder run up his spine as he was exposed. More vulnerable. Weaker. Still a whore and slut.

"It's like unwrapping a present," Vernon said hungrily. Harry winced. "Harry," he said, "you've gotten thinner."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, his voice gravelly.

"That's no matter," Vernon dismissed. "More angles when you're thin." He moved his hands over Harry's showing rib cage and gently pulled his trousers and pants down, next accentuating the jutting hip bones. With one hand on his hip and another on his shoulder, Vernon pushed Harry back into his previous position. "My pretty whore. My beautiful slut. Made even better by being thin. Oh, Harry," he breathed as he lay down beside him, running his hand leisurely from Harry's collarbone to his groin. "Even more beautiful than before."

"No, not really," Harry finally answered. "It didn't help at all."

"You were remembering something," Snape observed.

"Yeah," Harry whispered bitterly.

"So why haven't you started to eat again now that you're at Hogwarts?" Snape pressed. "Take another sip."

"It doesn't taste any better," Harry murmured.

"Even the chocolate?" Snape asked. "How does that taste?"

"Like I shouldn't soil it with my mouth," Harry said.

"Explain."

"Do you know what's been in my mouth?" Harry snapped.

"I can imagine," Snape drawled lightly.

"And if you know what's been in my mouth," Harry said, "then how can I appreciate anything else being there? You don't need to lecture me on my eating habits, sir. Hermione's already been after me."

"Good girl," Snape said. "I get the distinct impression that she cares about you. Even the Weasley boy."

"They're my friends," Harry said suddenly very defensive.

"They don't know, do they?"

"No, sir," Harry said. "Just you, me, and Vernon."

"Why haven't you told them? Take another sip."

"How could I?"

"You could simply tell them the truth."

"I can't even name it! I can't talk about it without falling apart, and I get trapped in the memories! What sort of a friend would I be if I told them? I'm the one who's supposed to save them. Not the one who needs saving."

"The greatest leaders are the lowest of servants," Snape said, "so why shouldn't a savior need saving? The world is built on paradoxes." Harry closed his eyes, and tried to quell the violent shaking that had begun. The mug of chocolate slipped from his hands and broke on the floor. Without a word, Snape cleaned up the mess and had another mug on the table.

"Potter!" he said. "Come out of it! You're in my chambers!" No reaction. "Potter!" he tried again. "Harry! Harry James Severus Potter Snape, come out of it!" That got a reaction. Harry's eyes snapped open, and he sighed once.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," Snape said.

"Why do you bother?" he muttered sullenly.

"Because I haven't seen you smile, not really smile, since last year." It was the last reason Harry expected to hear. It actually caused something of a smile to creep onto his face at that moment.

"I've never seen you smile, sir," Harry pointed out. Snape nodded.

"It's a rare occurrence," he admitted. "But I was not under the impression that we were here to talk about my state," he continued. "Take another sip." Snape handed him the fresh mug.

"No, thank you," Harry muttered as he refused the cup.

"Why?"

"I just don't want it," Harry whined.

"You like it, though?" Harry winced. How often he had heard that question!

"Yeah," he whispered hollowly. "I like it."

"If you think denying yourself chocolate is going to somehow be a punishment for any guilt you feel, it's not going to work," Snape finally said. "You know the two don't equate. You just haven't found something more serious to do to yourself."

"Then what would you have me do?" Harry leaned his shoulder against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

"I want you to live."

"But i don't want to live!" Harry choked out. "I want the pain to stop!"

"I know," Snape said quietly.

"The only reason I didn't kill myself at Private Drive was because of my duty!" Harry went on. "It would have made Vol - I mean, You-Know-Who's job too easy."

"Not for your friends?"

"They would be better off if I were dead," Harry said, finally opening his eyes, but not pushing himself off the couch. Snape raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "I wouldn't drag them into trouble that way, and I wouldn't have to worry about - tainting them."

"How are you tainted?"

"Just stop!" Harry screamed. "Go away! I don't want to think about it anymore!" He fisted his hand against his temples in agony.

"You didn't want to talk about it at all," Snape pointed out. "Now take a sip, and calm down. That's an order." He tried again to hand Harry the cup, who uncurled himself enough to accept it. "Drink it!" Snape barked when Harry didn't do anything. Reluctantly he took a sip.

"Better?" he asked, almost pouting.

"Yes," Snape agreed. "What are you dreams like on the rare occurrences that you do dream?" Harry paled, looked shocked, and then set the mug down carefully before covering his face with his hands in shame. Snape heard Harry's breath hitch once, but that was all the sound he made. His shoulders shook silently, bowed with the weight they had been forced to carry from even years ago. The weight of the wizarding world hung on his shoulders, and Snape knew that Harry knew it. It was more than one individual - much less a child - should ever have bear alone.

Snape moved closer to Harry on the couch, though Harry gave no indication that he was aware. Also setting his chocolate down, Snape put his arms awkwardly around the boy and pulled him close. He didn't even resist, Snape noticed. Harry, on the other hand, once he was touched, had trained it into himself that he needed to let whatever would happen happen. He let Snape touch him as a carry over from a survival instinct with Vernon.

"They're terrible," Harry finally sobbed into the older man's arms.

"Are they simply memories?" Snape asked calmly. Harry was surprised at the amount of gentleness the man possessed when he tried.

"Sometimes," Harry replied, still trying to bring himself under control. "Sometimes its other things, or - or other people." Harry looked up and looked at Snape with his tear stained face. "It's pretty messed up, huh?"

"No," Snape said, shaking his head ruefully. "Not at all." He grabbed Harry firmly by the chin and forced him to continue to look at him. "How do you know that you enjoyed it?" That brought a fresh round of tears from Harry. "Shh," Snape said, letting the eye contact be lost.

"I was aroused," Harry sniffled into Snape's robes quite pitifully. "I still am when I wake." It disturbed Harry more than he wanted to admit.

"That's a natural reaction," Snape said. "You have no control over it."

"I know," Harry whispered. "But it's horrible." Snape just nodded, and didn't force Harry away from him.

"Your body may have enjoyed it," Snape finally said, "but you didn't. Don't confuse your body with you. Your body is part of you, but it isn't the only part, and it isn't the most important part either. You're so much more than your body." Harry nodded, unable to meet Snape's eyes. "That is one mistake your uncle made - seeing you as only your body. Don't make the same mistake."

"I - I don't think I'll ever be able - " Harry quietly stammered. Snape waited without pushing him. "I don't think I'll ever be able to put the woman I'll love through that." Snape sighed sadly.

"You may be right," Snape said. "Sometimes you never recover."

.oO-Oo.

Potter had hit the nail on the head. It had been a fundamental reason for his disinterest in marrying the woman he loved. It was the same tragic story being played out again. Severus swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to make it as bearable for the child in his arms. In his arms! How had this happened? Severus would have pushed Potter away, if he had thought that it wouldn't hurt him. If he let him go now, Potter would undoubtedly take it as a sign that he was too "messed up," as the boy eloquently put it, for even his adoptive father (the thought!) to touch him.

"I want you to start eating," Severus said firmly. "Even if Miss Granger has spoken to you about it, I need you to eat more. I will be keeping an eye on you in the Great Hall for meals. I expect you to eat a decent amount. Alright?"

"Yes, sir," Potter said. "Don't touch me." He pushed Severus' arms away, and Severus complied.

"I want you to give me the rest of your stocks of dreamless sleep as well," he continued.

"What?" Potter said, paling with shock. "I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because I won't be able to sleep! And if I do, I'll dream!"

"That's the whole point," Severus drawled. "You're supposed to dream. But here's what you can do. There's always a sign that you're dreaming in the dream. Some little thing out of place. One wrong sentence. Pay attention to details when you dream. By the very fact that you may ask yourself if it is a dream, you can know that it is. Take control of the situation then and order yourself to wake up. It will take some practice, but that is the basis of lucid dreaming. Your mind can't produce an exact replica of reality. Take advantage of that."

"Thank you, sir," Potter said, actually sounding a bit relieved.

"It takes a strong mind, but you have demonstrated that you already have one, by keeping me out of your most personal memories."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," Potter said. He reached over and picked up the hot chocolate. After taking one sip, he said, "I think I've taken up enough of your time." He set the mug down and got up from the couch. "I hope you're feeling better this morning. I'll have the essay done by Monday."

"I am, thank you," Severus said, also rising. "Be sure to support your opinion with text from the book."

"I will, sir," Potter said, picking up his bag. "Be kind to yourself, sir." He turned quickly and reached to open the door.

"Harry," Severus said, "you too."


	7. The Balance of Power

The door clicked as Potter left. Severus sighed, as he rolled the warm mug of chocolate in his hands thoughtfully. He crossed his legs and took a sip as he stared off into the fire. He was more concerned about Potter than he was willing to let on. The boy had taken his home situation hard - as he should.

It was amazing, Severus thought, how much a simple mug of chocolate could do for a person. It was a favorite remedy of his, actually, which was why he introduced it to Potter. It wasn't like the boy had cooperated much though. In a way, Severus was glad of Potter's lack of cooperation. The horror was still fresh in his mind, and it still appalled him. He was still in a state of shock over it. There was a certain innocence in that, which Severus envied.

It was probably because of how long it had been going on for him, he thought. It had only taken a few months after he'd signed on with the Death Eaters for it to begin. Severus wasn't even sure how it had begun entirely. Maybe it was when Bellatrix had turned the Dark Lord down. There was the odd word, or the lingering touch for a few months. Little things that Severus tried to shrug off even when he noticed them - most of the time he didn't notice though. It was only in looking at his memories in the pensieve was he able to see how his master had groomed him. The Dark Lord earned his trust and then violated it and him in one blow, but it was too late.

It had happened so much, so often, that a cup of chocolate and a few pages of parchment were all the therapy he needed now. Or felt he needed. He didn't like seeing Potter in such distress over what had happened. But he knew that becoming like himself was not the answer. Definitely not the answer. Long ago he had resigned himself to his fate and accepted it. For him, there was no escape.

When he first joined the Death Eaters, he agreed to do the Dark Lord's bidding at every turn. Never questioning, only obedience. It was his job to make his lord's potions and do whatever else he commanded. During his youth, his blind trusting youth, this had not bothered him nearly as much as it should have. He was fine with following the every whim of his lord, because he had chosen who he would follow. It was control without control. He felt he had made the choice yet bore no responsibility. Which, he knew now, was not the case. He would always bear responsibility for his actions, because no one else could be responsible for them.

And once he sought escape from the Death Eaters, when Lily's life was threatened, Dumbledore's only offer was that of spying. He took it, because it was a way to redeem himself for his foolish actions as an impressionable teenager. It was the only way to make up for putting the woman he loved in danger, and eventually killing her, even if inadvertently.

But even as that lonely Halloween night had brought an eternal pain of remorse to his heart, it also freed him from his lord. For his new found freedom, he was secretly grateful, and for that he also felt the twin pain guilt. He had a hard time grasping the idea that anything good could have come from that night. The tragedy was too complete, too terrible, for there to be anything good come out of it for him. Yet, it had.

For a few years, he lived in peace. Or at least, as much peace as he could ever hope to find. Yes, the remorse and guilt pressed on him every hour of every day. Most people would not have called that peace, Severus thought. But for him, it had been. Then the Dark Lord returned, and remembered. He remembered his faithful dog. Severus unconsciously made a face as he thought that. The Dark Lord remembered, and began to summon him. He bore it all with the stoicism of an ancient Greek philosopher. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't refuse his master without revealing his true colors, without compromising his position as a spy. And he couldn't afford to do that.

There was Lily's child to protect and, though him, the whole of the world. Not only the wizards, but the muggles as well. The Dark Lord would not stop at simply ruling the wizarding world. He would demand the surrender and slavery of every non-magical creature on planet earth as well. Perhaps he was overrating his importance, he thought. But no, as the only spy in this war, he didn't think he was. He truly was a key piece in the elaborate chess game between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. Without him, the delicate balance of power would be irreparably disrupted. He voluntarily continued with his line of work for the sake of others. He didn't feel that he could justify saving himself, broken as he was, over saving the rest of the world.

Hero complex, he snorted into his chocolate. Better watch it, or I'll turn into a blasted Gryffindor.

.oO-Oo.

Harry wandered up to the Gryffindor common room, which was busy with the hustle and bustle of student life. He stepped in, and was immediately greeted by Ron and Hermione.

"Hey, mate," Ron said, "where have you been?"

"With Snape," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"All night?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Remedial potions ran late," Harry replied defensively. "And he wasn't about to take me back so he just had me stay down there with him."

"Sounds more like a torture sentence," Ron muttered. Harry smirked and nodded. It was expected of him, and honestly, that conversation that morning had been something of a torture session, though he knew Snape had not intended to make it so. He followed his friends to a small table in the corner. Apparently Ron had been copying from Hermione again, because Ron quickly started comparing the two essays.

"Which one is that?" Harry asked.

"The one for Snape on what we think that dragons' bane does to the dragon's physiology," Ron replied offhandedly. "You got it done yet?"

"Uh, no," Harry stammered. "Can I use yours, Hermione?"

"Honestly," Hermione sighed. "You would think you two couldn't do your own work for a change?"

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "I can do it." He pulled out a roll of parchment and his potions text and started to scribble a few words. He had just reached that point of concentration where one loses awareness of the outside world when Hermione slammed her book shut. Harry looked up, surprised, and found her glaring at him.

"What?" he said, genuinely confused.

"What's up with you and Snape?" she demanded quietly.

"Who says anything's up?" Harry deflected.

"Oh, come on," she sighed, "it doesn't take a genius to figure out that something's up. Even Ron noticed."

"Hey!" Ron protested over Hermione's lecture.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with Snape lately," she continued, unflapped by Ron's interruption. "More than strictly necessary for 'remedial potions.' The Headmaster had you go to see him earlier this week, and now you've spent the night with Snape."

"I did not!" Harry said, suddenly paling, looking rather panicked.

"Then where were you?" Ron demanded. "You just told us - "

"Oh," Harry said, "sorry, never mind. Nothing. Yeah, what I told you." He blushed a furious crimson and covered his face as he placed his elbows on the table. Hermione was almost smirking at him.

"You didn't think I was suggesting - ?"

"Nothing! It was nothing!" Harry mumbled sheepishly through his hands. "Just forget it."

"Fine," Hermione said, "but what's going on?"

"Absolutely nothing," Harry said, once he got himself under control, in what he hoped was his most convincing tone of voice. Ron made a face at him.

"Look, Harry," Hermione reasoned, "We're your friends. Whatever's been going on, you can trust us. Really. It's what friends are for, and we want to be there for you." Harry looked undecided for a moment. He really did want to unburden his soul to them, but he felt he shouldn't. He couldn't force them to consider the things he went through, the memories he lived with.

"Fine," Harry agreed reluctantly. "Snape adopted me." He wouldn't have to explain all the details of life at the Dursleys. If he kept the explanations short and simple, maybe Hermione and Ron would quit asking questions. Well, it certainly shut them up for the moment, Harry thought to himself. They both were blinking stupidly at him, almost owlishly.

"What?" Ron finally said, his tone absolutely flat.

"Why?" Hermione said right behind that.

"Snape adopted me because Dumbledore didn't like my home conditions apparently," Harry said with a shrug. "You know, like the bars on the window and the cat flap and stuff." As long as he referenced only things they knew about, then he wouldn't have to explain any further.

"And Dumbledore thinks Snape is going to be better?" Ron scoffed.

"Well," Harry stammered and shrugged. "He hasn't done anything too horrible yet." He tried to smile at them. "It's really not that bad. Really. Just Snape takes his job seriously, I guess, and he, I don't know, sort of wants to talk to me now."

"Wants to?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Well, feels he has to," Harry amended. "If he's going to have a son," he made an unpleasant face, "then he probably should initiate some contact."

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Hermione asked, sounding almost hurt.

"Because - " Harry started and then paused. "Well, because I didn't want you guys to make fun of it. Or try to do something stupid to 'rescue' me from it. Honestly, I didn't know it was going to happen until it was already done, the adoption ceremony, I mean. So - there wasn't anything you could do anyway. And there still isn't. And I'd rather people didn't generally know, so if you can just - not tell people?"

"Of course, Harry," Ron said, extending a sympathetic hand. "Can't be easy having Snape for a father." Harry gave an amused snort.

"Can't be easy having me for a son," he joked, though there was a bitter undertone. Ron gave Harry's arm a firm squeeze in response.

"So you're Harry Snape now?" Hermione asked. "That sounds so - so weird. Harry Snape."

"Yeah, I guess so," Harry agreed. "At least legally. But I'll always be the famous Harry Potter."

"No," Hermione said, smiling a little bit, "you'll always be Harry." He smiled softly at her and nodded his appreciation.

.oO-Oo.

Dear Sirius,

Most of the owls have the letters censored before they can be delivered now. I had Hermione put a delay on the ink so Umbridge can't read what I've really written, but by the time you get it, you should be able to read this. If not, well, I guess I just wasted an evening trying to write to you.

There's some things I think you should know, simply because you're my godfather, if you don't already know them. Chief among them being that Snape adopted me. I'm not sure how else to tell you. It just happened all at once for me too. Maybe that's why I can't break it to you slowly. Dumbledore performed the blood adoption ceremony, and approved of the arrangement. I really didn't get much say in the matter. When do I ever? It just happened, and now suddenly, I'm Snape's son.

Please don't be angry about it. I'm sure Dumbledore would have picked you if the Ministry weren't after you and all. I'll be fine, I promise. Snape's been rather decent all in all, really. Scary, yeah, but he hasn't hurt me at all. He even gave me hot chocolate once. It's almost - nice with him, you know? Maybe you don't, but it's like I know what I can expect from him. He's a constant, and he doesn't change, or at least not easily.

I think it might be a side effect of the adoption magic, but it actually bothers me when people insult him now. I don't really understand it. It just does. Like when Ron or someone calls him a name, it almost feels like it reflects on me. I know they don't mean it - heck, no one even knows about this other than Ron, Hermione, and the teachers - but I still don't like it. And Snape hasn't let Malfoy get away with much in Potions anymore. It's almost a strange protectiveness that we've found. I don't think he actually likes me any better than he ever did, but he's done a good job of looking out for me.

I hope everything's well with you. I might be able to come see you for Easter. I know you wanted me to come for Christmas, as did I, and I'm sorry about that. Thanks for everything.

Your godson,

Harry

Sirius didn't know what to make of the letter. It wasn't like Harry to say anything even vaguely positive about Snape. And this whole adoption business. He wasn't sure what Dumbledore had up his sleeve. But he didn't like it at all that Snape had adopted his godson. Like Harry had pointed out, he should have been the one to adopt the boy if anyone was going to adopt him.

But no, Dumbledore just handed Harry over to the overgrown dungeon bat and didn't even consult him about it. Snape picked on Harry. Everyone knew that, so why would the headmaster have chosen that one to care for the boy? It made no sense to him. He was repulsed by the thought that Snape was now Harry's father. James was Harry's father, and would always - always - be Harry's father. No matter what a deluded old man and a Death Eater might say.

.oO-Oo.

Harry knew Sirius would have a hard time accepting the fact that Snape had adopted him. That's why he tried to put in as many positive things about Snape as he could. He didn't want Sirius to worry about him either. Honestly, Harry didn't think he had much to worry about with Snape, other than perhaps the occasional session of relentless questions breaking down his walls and finding out his secrets.

But there was a certain comfort, Harry realized, in having someone else know. He might not like Snape particularly, but he did feel close. A combination of the adoption and secret sharing, he figured. He felt protective as well. Harry wondered if this was how Snape felt too. Because apparently the man had feelings.

Harry hadn't seen Sirius since - well, he couldn't rightly remember the last time he'd seen his godfather. It had been a long time. He hoped that Sirius wouldn't take the news of his adoption too hard. The man cared about him deeply, Harry knew. He would feel angry and jealous, Harry was sure. But Harry believed that Azkaban had unhinged a few doors, so to speak, in Sirius' mind. He didn't think his godfather was right in the head all the time. But then, who would be after spending twelve years with dementors? Harry knew he would be in pieces after just a few moments against them without his wand and patronus. How many times had he passed out again? And he knew his reactions would only have gotten worse. It was a miracle that Sirius still could form a coherent sentence. It was too much to expect the man to always be rational. After twelve years without a happy thought or a glimpse of joy, Harry thought that Sirius was doing remarkably well.

He simply hoped that his godfather would be as willing to understand him as he was to understand his godfather.

Hedwig flew into the common room. It had been several days since he sent that letter to Sirius, and she had a parchment tied to her leg. As quickly as he could, Harry untied the letter and began to read.

Dear Harry,

I am deeply concerned about your news. All of it. But especially the second and more personal thing. The first is something to be expected from government like that. Why would such a thing have happened? Harry, be careful. I don't trust the man. I don't trust his loyalties or his motivations, and I don't trust that he will look out for your best interests. I also wonder why the headmaster approved this. It worries me.

I look forward to seeing you over Easter.

Padfoot

Well. This type of response probably wasn't to be entirely unexpected. Of course it was vague and cryptic because Sirius didn't know (and neither did Harry) whether Umbridge was going to read the incoming mail too. Sirius wasn't stupid. But Harry was still a little upset that he didn't see that Snape was loyal, and that he was looking out for Harry's best interests.

But then, Harry reminded himself, two weeks ago, wouldn't he have thought the same as Sirius? It had only been with very personal revelations and the magic of the adoption that Harry's opinion of Snape had begun to change. Yet Sirius didn't trust him to make the judgement. Harry wanted to scribble out a reply berating his godfather for judging a man before learning his story. And if he did that, he would thoroughly berate himself for making the same mistake as well. But it wasn't his secret to give, and he wouldn't violate Snape's trust, albeit given grudgingly.

If only Sirius could know what Snape had given up - and still gave up - to help him, Harry! Then Sirius wouldn't question Snape's loyalties. Then he wouldn't question Snape's motivations. Then maybe, just maybe, Sirius would be able to accept that Snape adopted him.

.oO-Oo.

The world was made up of black and white. You were either good or bad. It was the thought that he had clung to for twelve years. And he couldn't give it up now, not after that long. Not after what that belief had done for him. And he'd been thrown in Azkaban believing Snape to be the bad, black Death Eater. He couldn't change his mind now.

Why couldn't Dumbledore see it? The man was making a grave mistake giving his godson's care over to the sniveling coward. He had always had absolute faith in Dumbledore. But if he couldn't see it - wait, no, maybe... Sirius cast the thought aside. It was impossible. Maybe Dumbledore did see. Maybe he didn't care. Or maybe he was really involved in some darker plot than Sirius had ever suspected.

His world came crashing down. Dumbledore? Could it be, that in twelve years, somehow he'd gotten his prioreties messed up? And maybe Snape and Dumbledore were in league somehow. Dumbledore had betrayed him. He had betrayed everyone.

Sirius had often felt bitter and angry at the followers of the Light. How had they been so hasty as to throw him in Azkaban without even hearing the evidence in his favor? What if it had been because Dumbledore hadn't really cared?

Suddenly everything made sense to him. He had been sent to Azkaban because Dumbledore had his own agenda. Snape really wasn't a Death Eater - he was Dumbledore's lapdog. And they were both using Harry. Why hadn't he seen this earlier? Why hadn't Remus seen it?

He pressed his palms against his forehead, his mind racing. The poor boy. He was being manipulated, and he didn't even know it. Well, there was only thing he could think of to save his godson. It was risky, very dangerous, and absolutely ridiculous. Perfect plan, he thought wryly. If Dumbledore controlled one side of the war, then perhaps he could parley with the other side. He could see what You-Know-Who himself had to say about matters.

Sure, he didn't like the whole pure-blood only regime, but he didn't like Dumbledore's form of injustice either. And he wanted Harry out of the reach of anyone who would try to use him. His only hesitation was that You-Know-Who really wasn't all the fond of Harry either. But perhaps - perhaps - he could convince him to take action against Snape, heck, even against Dumbledore himself. If he got rid of those two, Harry would be safe from them, and someone else could take over for them. Sirius was sure there had to be someone who would respect Harry.

If Dumbledore and Snape were the black, then who was the white?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you review, let me explain. This is actually not Sirius bashing. There's admittedly a fine line between Sirius bashing and what I wrote, but this is meant to illustrate the workings of the mind of a man who has been so long without love and joy that he no longer can see people's actions for what they really are. I do not believe it plausible that anyone could live in Azkaban for twelve years and remain sane, no matter how innocent they were. So this is nothing against Sirius personally. He's a good man, and his central motive is to do what's good for Harry. He's simply - a bit unbalanced.


	8. Servant of Two Masters

An owl swooped low, and dropped a piece of paper on Severus' desk. He noticed it was an envelope - a muggle envelope - addressed to him. He opened it up, wondering what problem one of his muggle-born or half-blood students was going on about now.

Dear Mr. Snape,

I recently received word that you were made guardian of my nephew, Harry Potter. Whatever reason the Ministry might have had for this sudden change, it hardly seems appropriate that he have no contact with his relatives. I was hoping that perhaps we could have visitation rights, if wizards have such a thing.

I await your reply,

Vernon Dursley

Severus touched the paper as little as possible, repulsed as he was by touching it. The nerve of the man. Obviously he didn't expect anyone else to know about what had gone on. Well, two could play at this game. Severus sat down to write his reply.

Mr. Dursley,

Visitation rights is certainly understood by wizards. And of course you will be allowed to see your nephew. I will see to his transportation, and you can see him for the weekend. Expect him Friday night.

Severus Snape

.oO-Oo.

"Potter," Snape said, suddenly behind him after supper Saturday night.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked, turning around to keep the man in his vision.

"I trust you have the extra potions you were to deliver to me?" He arched an eyebrow in silent understanding.

"Uh...yes, sir!" Harry said. "They're all brewed up, just still in the dormitory."

"Good," Snape said. "You need the extra credit, seeing what sort of abysmal grades you're getting in class. I want to see all of them on my desk by eight o'clock tonight. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered. Snape nodded at him and stalked off.

.oO-Oo.

Later, after supper, Harry found himself wandering up the staircases to the Gryffindor common room. He knew he had to give the sleeping potions to Snape. Snape wouldn't stand for anything less than every drop of it being handed over to him that night. But he didn't want to do it.

Just like every drug addict before me, Harry thought, and then winced at what his own mind told him. He sighed as he stepped into the common room, and then climbed to his dormitory. Thankfully, it was empty. He could just think for awhile without anyone interrupting. Harry went over to his dressed and opened the drawer where he kept the potions. They clattered lightly as he stopped the drawer from falling out on the floor.

He wouldn't have to give Snape all of it, a small voice told him. He could give him half of his stocks, say it was all of it, and then use the rest. He might even be able to continue to make it if he was sneakier about it. He could continue just the way he had since the middle of first term. The idea sounded very tempting as he stood there watching the bottles. Then suddenly he realized that watching them wasn't going to make them do any tricks. He rolled his eyes at himself.

He was being stupid. Snape was right. Taking the dreamless sleep every night like that was hurting him. Not only physically but psychologically as well. He was being a coward, hiding behind potions. And in that moment, before he lost his nerve, he scooped up the bottles and dropped them in his school bag. Harry ran down the dormitory steps.

"Where are you off to?" Ron demanded as Harry rushed past him.

"Getting those extra credit potions to Snape!" Harry called back. Then Harry disappeared through the portrait without waiting for a reply.

"He's really got extra credit potions?" Ron whispered to Hermione. "Since when does he do extra credit potions?" She shrugged, and Ron looked bewildered.

Harry, on the other hand, hadn't stopped running once he left the common room, but thankfully no one was around to see this horrible display of manners. He was determined to get those potions to Snape before he turned back and began to use them again. It was strange, he realized, the feeling of liberation he was getting from his decision. But that was until he realized that he'd have to suffer through his nightmares without it. He slowed his pace to a walk, and placed his hand protectively over his bag. He suddenly felt rather nervous about handing it over to Snape.

His moment of bravery was over, he realized. And then he felt like kicking himself. He was a Gryffindor, for crying out loud! He could do whatever he wanted because he had the nerve to do anything. Resolutely, he walked on a little farther. Then he heard someone move behind him and he whirled.

"Made your decision, I see?" Snape said and stepped from the shadows.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied with more confidence than he felt. Snape nodded at him, and Harry got the impression that Snape knew everything that had gone through his mind. All the doubt and unsureness, the reluctance, and even reminding himself that he was a Gryffindor. Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth bag and held it open. Wordlessly, Harry opened his own bag and began to put the concentrated potion into the other one.

"There's one thing I forgot to tell you," Snape said, once the potions were successfully transferred. "When you're dreaming, ask yourself how you got in that situation, or got to that place. If it's not a dream, you will know the answer. If it is a dream, you won't be able to answer it at all, and your dream will come crumbling down around you."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled, looking at the ground. He felt ashamed of his fear of the nightmares, and apparently it showed on his face.

"It's alright to be scared," Snape said quietly, after glancing around to see that no one could hear them. "Just don't let the fear possess you. It's something Gryffindors are rather good at. Use it." And Snape turned and walked away abruptly.

Harry almost smiled as Snape walked away in his usual blustery manner, cape billowing behind him. The awkwardness that Snape gave off was humorous, he realized. Snape was out of his depth, dealing with him, and Harry actually found he liked throwing the man off a bit. He also turned and returned to his dormitory. No one was in the room, so Harry grabbed his book, Quiddish Throughout the Ages, and absentmindedly opened his dresser drawer. When he didn't hear the familiar tinkle of glass, he remembered.

"Blast," he hissed, and quietly closed his drawer. He didn't want to sleep without his potion, but he knew he would have to. As much as he would have just spent the night awake, he knew he couldn't continue that, and escaping sleep tonight would just make his position worse later on. He opened up his books as he lay on his bed and tried to read, but found that he couldn't concentrate. His mind kept wandering back to the potions he didn't have. Perhaps he should make some more. No, his better mind called back, that would defeat the purpose, because he really did need to kick his addiction. He still winced as he called it that.

He slammed his book closed, and just then, Ron stepped in. Harry swung his legs out and sat on the bed as he tossed the book into the trunk at the foot.

"Upset about something?" Ron asked.

"Not at all," Harry said, faking sincerity.

"Really now," Ron replied. Harry didn't respond.

"I'm going to bed," Harry finally announced, as he quickly changed clothes for the night, and crawled under the covers. He curled into a fetal position and brought the covers close to his face, subconsciously trying to block out the rest of the world.

His mind was racing as he knew this was his first night in months without anything to block out his dreams. He was terrified, even though his rational mind tried to tell him that they were only dreams. That he had nothing to fear. But it didn't help bring down his anxiety. Finally, he began to try to focus his mind on other things and clear it like Snape had told him all those Occlumency lessons ago. Before he knew it, he was in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness.

Harry was immediately whisked off to Private Drive. His head exploded with dreams that had been suppressed for months. Vernon dragged him to the bedroom and threw him against the bed. He began to whimper and cry, unable to fight his situation. Not again, he prayed. He wished he were dreaming. That recalled a memory, a vague one, of Snape. Snape told him how to tell if it were a dream or not. Harry immediate began looking around the room. The pictures were on the wall, and the furniture was in place. Everything seemed perfect.

Then, as though he were getting to close to something important, Vernon pulled him onto the bed and blocked his vision of the room. He began to undress Harry, who whined some more. Now he couldn't examine his surroundings anymore. How had he gotten into this situation in the first place? Wasn't he supposed to be at Hogwarts? Why wasn't his school a protection for him?

Vernon had dragged him into the bedroom, he began to tick off in his head, and before that he'd been downstairs just minding his own business. Before that - before that where had he been? Reality just started. This was a dream. He'd found proof that it was a dream.

"Wake up!" his dream self-called.

And Harry sat up with a start, drawing his wand instinctively. It had worked. Snape's lucid dreaming advice had worked! He was more tired than when he'd gone to sleep, but he'd avoided the nightmare and the potion. Maybe as he got better at this, it wouldn't wear him out so much to fight the dream. As he caught his breath, he noticed a figure move in the dark.

"You alright, Harry?" Ron whispered.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why?" Harry whispered back.

"You were having a nightmare," Ron said. "And you were - well you were begging someone to leave you alone. You've never had nightmares. Is Snape treating you alright?" Blast, he'd forgotten the silencing spell. Every night, without fail, he'd cast that spell over his bed, and then the first time his routine got disrupted, of course he'd forget the spell!

"Yeah, Snape's fine," Harry said. "It's just Voldemort."

"Okay," Ron said. "Good night."

"Good night."

.oO-Oo.

Severus easily procured a piece of Potter's hair, and dropped it into a mud brown potion. It sizzled for a moment, and then turned a murky blue. Essence of Potter, he thought. If you had told him a month ago he would voluntarily drink such a thing, he would have told you to report yourself to St. Mungo's mental facility. After making an appropriate face, Severus knocked the potion back and swallowed it in one go. It tasted as expected - terrible.

In a few moments, Severus felt his body morph into Potter's slimmer, smaller body. After checking in a mirror that all had gone well, Severus cast a notice-me-not charm, and slipped out of his chambers and onto the castle grounds. Once he was beyond the wards, he apparated to Private Drive. Was Vernon Dursley in for a surprise!

It was evening of Friday night, as he had promised. Dursley would be expecting the boy. Trying to assume Potter's mannerisms, Severus-Potter knocked on the door. In a moment, it opened to reveal the whale of a man that so regularly abused Potter. Severus-Potter had to use every ounce of self-control to not sneer at him. Unconsciously, Severus-Potter's hand moved toward his pocket where he felt his wand.

"Come in, Harry," Dursley said, stepping aside. Severus-Potter, faking meekness, did as instructed. "So good of that Snape fellow to let me see you again. You know he didn't offer any argument at all for not letting you come here."

"I know," Severus-Potter said stiffly.

"Why did they let him adopt you anyway?" Dursley continued. "You didn't say anything, did you?"

"I need to use the loo," Severus-Potter said abruptly, guarding his eyes as he thought Potter would do, and he slipped away quickly. Once the door was closed, Severus-Potter slipped another vial of polyjuice potion out of his pocket and drank it down. Quickly, he transformed back into himself. It was the fastest way to undo a transformation - to make one of yourself. He'd never done it before, and his only thought was that "Essence of Snape" tasted very, very bitter. He tossed the bottle aside, and pulled out his wand, ready to make his debut to Dursley. He stepped out, and saw the man waiting for the person he believed to be his nephew.

"What - ? Who - ?" Dursley stammered stupidly.

"Severus Snape," he said as means of explanation as he leveled his wand at the man. "And I'm here to deal with you properly. Potter never willingly speaks of what happened between you, but I forced it out of him. And no one hurts Lily's child without answering to me. Is that understood?" He spoke in his most threatening tone of voice. It wasn't loud, but anyone who possessed even the slightest amount of self-preservation instinct knew to not cross up Severus Snape when he spoke that way. Dursley was clearly terrified.

"Just go," he said, trying to wave the stranger out the door.

"No," Severus barked back. "I'm going to see that something close to justice happens."

"What are you going to do?" Just as Dursley asked the question, and Severus was trying to formulate an answer, Severus' arm twinged. It was the kind of pain that signaled a Death Eater meeting - not an individual summons.

"I'm going to turn you into a bat and deal with you later," he said suddenly, and cast the spell. A very fat, black bat began to crawl towards him, squeaking madly. Severus picked him up and thrust him in his pocket. "And you'll be absolutely silent if you have any idea what's good for you," Snape continued. The chatter from his pocket stopped. And then Severus apparated, bat an all, to the Dark Lord's manner.

.oO-Oo.

Severus sat, bored, as he listened to the drivel of his fellow Death Eaters. It wasn't anything important that was happening, and he would much rather have been sitting in his chambers grading papers. He would have rather have been talking to Potter, he suddenly realized. Oh, this was bad, if he'd rather talk to the boy than sit here listening to the meeting. Just went to show how bored he was. Of course he didn't show any of his true feelings on the meeting, because it would have been very inappropriate to be bored while his lord was speaking of this, that, and the next thing. So he appeared to be raptly interested. Silently, he wished for the meeting to be over. Generally when interesting things happened at a Death Eater meeting, they were bad things. So he wasn't hoping for interesting.

The bat in his pocket hadn't made a sound since having been given the warning. Apparently Dursley wasn't always as stupid as he looked.

"And lastly," the Dark Lord was saying to his group, "we have a guest." Severus almost visibly perked up at that. This was one of those bad interesting things. He hoped this wasn't about Dursley. But then if it was, he would have no problem turning the man over to the Death Eaters. "You may come in and make your case to the group." Well, not Bat-Man, Severus thought wryly. As much as he hated puns, they always did have a way of occurring to him. The doors of the room swung open, and a man in a cloak walked in. His face was obscured from Severus' view by the hood.

"Thank you," a familiar voice responded when the stranger stood only a few paces from the Dark Lord. Then the man turned and slowly lowered his hood. Hisses broke out from the crowd, and wands were drawn.

"Now, now," the Dark Lord said in his soothing tone of voice, "wands away. Let him speak." His Death Eaters complied. Severus gazed in shock on the man in their midst.

"What are you doing here, Black?" he asked. Black looked at him and appeared almost sorrowful.

"You're a spy," he announced, and Black glanced nervously over the crowd. There was a low murmuring.

"Of course I am!" Severus said, standing and marching to the front of the room where he stood opposite to Black. "If you've come here to report something which is as well known as the weather, I would advise that you do it to a mentally incompetent audience!" The murmuring among the Death Eaters rose a notch.

"Perhaps I haven't made myself clear, Snape," Black continued. "You work for Dumbledore." Severus rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders dramatically.

"Of course I do! How do you think I would be a double agent if I didn't work for two opposed sides at the same time? Really, Black, your intelligence, or lack thereof, will never cease to astound me." Black made no immediate reply but slowly walked a full circle around Snape, looking him over carefully.

"You misunderstand me," Black said. "I said you work for Dumbledore."

"And?"

"Dumbledore is the one you're loyal to. You're not loyal to him," he pointed at the Dark Lord, "or them," he waved an arm at the crowd of Death Eaters. "You're loyal to the headmaster."

"Prove it," Severus hissed at him. "You can't prove my loyalties one way or another."

"Harry," Black said, and Severus involuntarily took a step back. It took only a moment, and Severus regained himself.

"What about Potter?" he sneered.

"You adopted him," Black accused. Then he turned to the Death Eaters. "Your spy adopted the Boy-Who-Lived! Is that what one loyal to you would do? Is it?" The crowd was absolutely silent. A pin dropping could have been heard. "He didn't even tell you, did he?" Black whispered, though his voice carried. Severus looked beseechingly at his master. The Dark Lord only looked at him curiously. Then Severus glanced out over his comrades, scared of what he would see there. Bellatrix rose. She looked furious, no, murderous.

"Is this true, Severus?" she asked.

"It is true that I have adopted Potter," he spat, "but in no way am I loyal to Dumbledore." He made a face as though the very thought repulsed him.

"Then why did you adopt the boy?" Lucius asked. He seemed much calmer the Bellatrix, but no less dangerous.

"Dumbledore demanded it," he replied. "The old fool didn't believe that his relatives were good enough to him." There was a screech from his pocket, but he silenced Dursleys with firm slap to his pocket. "And, romantic that he is, he believes that I care for the boy because of the unfortunate childhood drama with Lily Evans." He was twisting facts, and outright painting the opposite image from the truth, but what else would a good spy, a good Slytherin, do? In reality, he knew it was his idea to take Potter in, and he did care for him because of his love for Lily. But he had to do everything in his power to discredit that. It felt like stabbing himself, though, to even say one word against Lily.

But a better concern was, why was Black standing opposite him at a Death Eater meeting? Why was Black trying to discredit him? Why was Black doing this? Severus certainly didn't know, but he suspected it might have to do with some misguided sense of love for Potter. His first thought was to blame the boy for not having explained the situation properly to Black, but then realized that Potter would probably have done the best job he could. In fact, Potter probably didn't know of anything his godfather had planned that night.

"Then will you hand the boy over?" the Dark Lord asked. Severus' mind was working as fast as it could trying to find some explanation.

"I can't, my lord," he said, hoping his voice was confident and quick enough to convince. "The boy is held within the safety of the castle. The wards prevent any teacher forcing a student off the grounds."

"Surely you can convince him to come with you willingly?"

"My lord," Severus said, stalling for time, "I have no plausible excuse to bring Potter off school grounds. He doesn't trust me, and would be suspicious if I asked for such a thing. Perhaps with the summer holidays, something can be arranged." Severus almost bowed, he wasn't sure out of fear or an act of respect, though he leaned towards the fear.

"Severus, Severus, my dear Severus," the Dark Lord murmured as he stepped close to the man. He reached out and with one finger brought Severus' gaze to his own. The only sign of a struggle was that Severus winced and closed his eyes. The Dark Lord had invaded Severus' mind and was tearing through memories and feelings never before revealed. Under normal circumstances, Severus was sure he wouldn't have broken. But with Black standing there accusing him of reality, he had a very difficult time keeping those thoughts from the forefront of his mind. When the Dark Lord released his mind, Severus gave a small gasp and looked helplessly around him. His master did nothing, said nothing.

"You said Dumbledore thought Harry's relatives didn't treat him right?" Black murmured to Severus.

"Congratulations," Severus sneered. "Your ears work. Halleluiah!"

"What did they do to him?" Black asked. "He never explained why he couldn't see me for Christmas except - that his relatives needed him." Severus plastered a blank look on his face, unwilling to give in to the torrent of words and facial expressions he could use to answer this question.

"I believe this one can answer your questions," Severus finally said, drawing the bat from his pocket and canceling the spell. Vernon Dursley stood before them. "He's the boy's uncle. Black, do with him what you will." Severus silently added that any fate a wizard could give him would be too good. Even though the two of them were enemies, Black seemed to understand the unspoken thought. He nodded curtly. The Dark Lord stood looking on, apparently amused. Severus knew he was a dead man. He was surprised his master hadn't cast the killing curse the moment he had finished viewing memories. But he didn't want to see Dursley go unpunished, and if Black would see to it for him, then so be it. At least the man could redeem himself in some small way.

"My lord," Severus said with a nod of his head. "If you will. I'm ready." He stood tall with his palms facing out, ready to take his death sentence. The Dark Lord simply raised a non-existent eyebrow.

"Take a seat, Severus," he said. Severus stood there dumbfounded for a moment, but then regained himself.

"Yes, my lord," he said, and immediately took his place among his peers. There were whispers and murmurings, but they were like flies buzzing to Severus. Whatever the other Death Eaters had to say was no where near as important as the simple order to sit. There were more things at work than Severus understood obviously. And that infuriated him, since he knew everything from both sides at every moment. But apparently he didn't.

Black and Dursley stood assessing each other wordlessly. Finally, with a flick of his wand, Black motioned Dursley to the door.

"You're not going to just let him walk away, are you, my lord?" Bellatrix objected when the two of them began to leave.

"Hush, Bella," the Dark Lord purred, and the woman calmed immediately. "Sirius," he continued, "are you sure you don't wish to join us? Surely anyone who would let an innocent rot in Azkaban for twelve years does not deserve that same man's loyalty."

"You let your own lot rot in Azkaban too," Black spat.

"Ah, but I rescued them as soon as I was able," the Dark Lord said silkily. "It was most unfortunate that any of them had to be there. But I did everything in my power to help them. Can you say the same of Dumbledore?"

"No," Black said. "And I'm not loyal to him."

"Then who are you loyal to?"

"No one," Black said offhandedly.

"You mean you're loyal to the Potter boy," the Dark Lord suggested. "Let me assure you, I offer him a fast and easy death. What does Dumbledore offer? He'll use the boy. Make him into a weapon, mold him. Does he even see Potter as a person? Will he give him the dignity of an honorable death?"

"I - I don't know," Black stammered. Severus wanted to slap his forehead. Couldn't Black see what the Dark Lord was doing? He was simply using Black's own motivators and desires to make the Death Eaters seem a better option. It was all the Dark Lord ever had done. The worst part was how good he was at it.

"Sirius," the Dark Lord continued. "Please, do consider. I will let you go as a sign of my good faith. You may interrogate this man, and when you have learned all you can, I want you to consider what sort of a fate Dumbledore gave your godson." Black just looked stiffly at him, and nodded mutely. Then he poked Dursley with his wand and the two left.

"Meeting dismissed!" the Dark Lord said. "You may all go home." Severus tried to creep to the back of the room to apparate when Bellatrix raised her voice.

"And Severus?" she asked. "What did you find?"

"That he is loyal," the Dark Lord said without missing a beat. Severus' jaw could have dropped on the floor. "Sirius Black is mad," he continued. "There is no truth in what he says. Yet he would be a valuable asset. Severus, do stay."

"Yes, my lord," he murmured with guarded eyes. Definitely a dead man. When all the others were gone, his master stepped over to him and eyed him as he walked circles around Severus. Severus tried not to flinch or give any sign of being uncomfortable.

"You and I both know what I saw tonight," the Dark Lord said eventually.

"Yes, my lord," he said, swallowing nervously.

"There is no need to call me your lord anymore, Severus," he instructed, morphing into Tom Riddle. Severus winced.

"The only mercy I ask for is that it be quick," he requested.

"Don't you understand, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked curiously. "I've known all along about your loyalties. You're more use to me alive than dead. It doesn't matter what side you're on. You're still a good whore." Severus gazed at the man before him in horror.

"So it's all been a waste," he murmured sorrowfully. "Everything I've ever endured. Everything was a total waste." He felt a tightening in his chest.

"Exactly," Tom said, as he pushed Severus against the wall.


	9. Ashes to Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so everyone on is clear on this, this chapter starts the Sunday before where the last chapter ends. It's a non-linear story. Thank you!

Harry work with a start the next morning. It was Sunday morning, and Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had successfully avoided his nightmares that night, but he woke up tired. Swinging his legs out of bed, he noticed that no one else was up yet. Well, that was their business, he figured. It wasn't like they had nightmares to hide from. He shrugged and changed into jeans and a hoodie before stumbling down the dormitory steps.

The lights were horribly bright, he realized as he put his hand in the way. Even then, he was still wincing to see. No one was up. Fine! He'd just go find someone else in some other part of the castle if all his housemates decided to sleep. But the light in the hallway wasn't any better. Harry focused his gaze on the carpet, where the light wasn't so bright, and found his way to the Great Hall.

There were a few people there, he was glad to find. One Gryffindor third year, two Ravenclaws, and a Slytherin. He didn't know any of them, but he sat down at the Gryffindor table anyway, careful to sit a healthy distance from the only other Gryffindor in the room. He didn't want to talk to her, but he didn't want to be clearly rude either. He put some food on his plate, set the serving spoon aside, and then looked up at the head table.

Snape was there, watching him intently. Alright, he grabbed the spoon again and plopped another scoop of hot cereal into his bowl. He could have sworn that Snape smirked at him. Harry made a subtle face at the man, and began to eat. When he was halfway through the food, and his mind in an entirely different world, he heard someone clear his throat behind him. Harry turned, and saw Snape.

"Finally decided to pay the world around you your attention, Potter?" Snape drawled, but Harry could tell there was a slight difference in the tone. It wasn't quite as cold as it once would have been, and there was a slight note of amusement in his voice.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, scrambling to his feet, still nervous. He tried to meet Snape's eyes, but he found he couldn't. The lights were still too bright. So he settled for casting his eyes on the ground and hoping he didn't look guilty.

"I need to discuss those extra credit potions with you," Snape said. "They were awful enough that it might have to count against you." Harry raised an eyebrow discreetly, but didn't say anything. "My office, after you finish." And then the man left.

So after he finished, he darted down to Snape's office to see what was up. He had a pounding headache, and all he could think about was the way his heartbeat echoed in his skull. By the time he knocked on Snape's door, the sound felt like it was going to make his head explode.

"Come in!" Snape barked, and Harry winced, not at the words, nor the tone, but at the sound itself. He stepped in and closed the door quietly behind him. Thankfully, Snape always kept his chambers dimmed, so Harry finally could open his eyes fully.

"Drink this," Snape ordered as he thrust a potion into Harry's hands. Harry turned it over and looked at it. It was a thick silvery liquid. "If you think I'm trying to poison you, I would have done it long ago," Snape drawled.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"It will make you feel better," Snape dodged.

"How do you know I'm not feeling good?" Harry continued.

"Because you can't stand looking into the light and you have a headache. Common withdrawal symptoms. Now drink it!" Without another moment's hesitation, Harry knocked the bottle back and swallowed it. Almost immediately, he felt better.

"Thank you," he said. Snape just nodded curtly. Harry looked around, unsure what to do. "It worked," he finally said.

"What did?" Snape asked.

"The lucid dreaming," Harry clarified. "It worked."

"That's good," Snape said. "It will be much better for you in the long run. Now go along. I'm sure your friends are wondering where you are."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled and left.

.oO-Oo.

"Now, tell me what Snape was talking about," Sirius growled to a trembling Vernon Dursley. They were alone in Grimmauld Place, Friday night after they left the Death Eater meeting. Dursley made no motion to answer the question. "Tell me!" Sirius screamed as he slammed the over sized man into the wall.

Suddenly there was a screeching from the hallway. Sirius rolled his eyes dramatically and cast a charm to block out his mother's screaming.

"I have no idea what he was talking about," Dursley said with clenched teeth.

"Oh, yes, you do," Sirius chuckled, pointing his wand at Durlsey's throat. It wasn't that Sirius was amused. Not at all, and that was what made him all the more dangerous. "I might not like Snape - that's an understatement - I hate Snape, but he would never have adopted Harry and had you in his pocket if something wasn't going on!"

"I refuse to tell you anything," Dursley huffed. Sirius backed off. He looked resigned.

"Fine," he said. "Fine, you don't have to tell me anything." He left Dursley in the room and came back with two glasses with clear liquid which he set down. When Dursley didn't move to take the other one, Sirius motioned him with his hand.

"I'm not letting you go till you tell me, and you're not going to tell me, so it seems like you're going to be staying awhile," Sirius said, taking a seat as he cradled his glass. "Drink up."

"How do I know you haven't poisoned this?" Dursley asked, eying the glass skeptically.

"If I wanted to kill you, there are much more efficient means at my disposal," Sirius said. Dursley nodded, and drank the liquid. When it was finished, Sirius jumped up from his seat and set his glass aside, his own drink forgotten.

"There! You drank it!" he screamed triumphantly.

"So it was poisoned!" Dursley barked back.

"No!" Sirius smirked. "Truth serum. Why was Harry taken away from you?"

"I don't know for sure!" Dursley sneered.

"Take your best guess."

"Fine, I was using the freak." Sirius stopped, digesting what was just said.

"Using how?" he said warily, drawing his want again.

"As my whore, of course. Are you thick, man?" Sirius blinked in shock.

"If you didn't have that potion in your veins, I wouldn't believe you," he said. "How could you?" Sirius grabbed Dursley by his shirt front and slammed him into the wall to the rhythm of his words. "How - could - you?" Dursley made no reply, whether because he had none, or because of the force being inflicted upon him, Sirius didn't know. "You - I don't even have words for you!" Sirius took his wand and pointed it threateningly. "Any fate I can come up with for you is too good," he hissed, sounding a lot like Snape, he realized, but he was too angry to care. "You raped my godson!"

And with that, Sirius began firing every spell he could think of at Dursley who writhed on the ground.

"I should have you castrated!" Sirius screamed.

.oO-Oo.

Harry was asleep in his dormitory on Friday night. His lucid dreaming had succeeded that week. Mostly. Once he was trapped in a dream so deeply that he couldn't break it. But his silencing charm had kept his room mates from knowing what was up.

He was Voldemort. It was strange - and scary - because even as he was Voldemort, he still retained a bit of his Harry-consciousness. Snape was standing before him. More accurately, Snape was almost cowering before him. Almost. Snape looked resigned, but submissive.

"You and I both know what I saw tonight," Harry said. No! Voldemort said it. Not Harry. Although it felt like he was saying it. Voldemort was very pleased. He was just thrumming with anticipation and a cruel delight.

"Yes, my lord," Snape said.

"There is no need to call me your lord anymore, Severus," Voldemort-Harry said.

"The only mercy I ask for is that it be quick."

"Don't you understand, Severus? I've known all along about your loyalties. You're more use to me alive than dead. It doesn't matter what side you're on. You're still a good whore." Harry felt his conscious reel in horror as he realized what it felt like he was saying.

"So it's all been a waste. Everything I've ever endured. Everything was a total waste."

"Exactly."

Harry forced himself to wake, and immediately slipped out of bed. This was one of those dreams that was real, he realized. He threw on his jeans and hoodie, left there for the morning, and threw his invisibility cloak about himself. Wand in hand, he slipped out of Gryffindor tower.

If his dream was true, Snape wouldn't be in his chambers. If it wasn't true, then Snape would probably be there. And if he were there, Harry realized, he'd certainly get the lecture of his life, but it would be worth it. As he hurried along, Harry imagined the scene.

"Potter! What are you doing wandering the castle at this hour? Don't you know it's 3 in the morning?"

"Yes, sir. You see, I just had this dream..."

"You're awake now! Go back to bed."

"Yes, sir!"

Harry would have smiled at his own image of Snape, sleepy eyed, scolding him from the doorway, but Harry was too convinced of his dream's reality to be inclined to smile at any fantasy he made up. When he got to Snape's door, he knocked quietly. Nothing happened. So Harry tried again. Still nothing.

"Alohomora," Harry whispered, and the door popped open. Harry slipped inside. Everything was pitch black. "Lumos," he whispered again and began to search Snape's chambers quickly. Without too much trouble, he found Snape's bedroom, and to his disappointment, but not to his surprise, Snape wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere to be found. So Harry decided that his dream had been reality.

So Voldemort knew about Snape being a spy. And he had been so happy about grinding Snape into the dirt with that knowledge. What killed Harry more than anything was that he knew that Snape was taking it hard. Just the look in the man's eyes was enough to know that. And Harry could only imagine what it would be like to discover that everything you'd suffered for countless years was turned to ashes in a moment.

He picked up a pinch of floo powder and cast a spell on it to take him wherever the last trip had been. Harry knew he was taking a chance with this, but perhaps the last place Snape had gone was wherever he was now. Harry didn't have to know where it was. If it was protected by a secret keeper, he wouldn't even have to be given the address. Because he didn't have to know the address.

Harry stepped into the fireplace, nervous, still covered in his cloak. Better to not let Voldemort know too much, he figured. He might not be able to get his general presence by the overgrown snake, but it might buy him a few moments, a few dear and precious moments. With a flare of green flames, Harry stepped out into a drear and cold stone room. It didn't take him a second and he assessed the situation.

Voldemort - or rather, Tom Riddle - was assaulting Snape. So engrossed was he, that he didn't notice the noise or the light from the floo. Riddle had Snape against the wall and was running his hands over his professor's bare chest. Snape had a dead look in his eyes. He'd given up, Harry realized. Snape must feel that there was nothing left for him to live for, or to fight for.

Harry wasn't going to let it happen to Snape again! If anything, Snape's resignation strengthened his determination. Harry aimed his wand carefully and whispered "Stupefy" but nothing happened. He shook his wand and tried again, but still there was no reaction. He needed to do something, and fast, he realized. Harry whipped his cloak off, revealing himself.

"Riddle!" he screamed, aiming his mysteriously useless wand at his mortal enemy. "Back off now!" Slowly, Riddle turned to face him.

"Harry Potter," he intoned, sneering. "Come to rescue Severus, I suppose?" Snape looked horrified.

"Potter, you fool," he said through gritted teeth.

"Leave him alone," Harry repeated, both his voice and his wand shaking. "Leave him alone, I'm telling you!"

"And what do you think you have that will convince me to do that?" Riddle said silkily. "Your wand is useless here. Just like lead stops muggle x-rays," Harry gave Riddle a shocked look, "yes, of course I know of them, but just like that, there are dampers on your magic here when I put them up. Anything but my magic. And unless you can somehow use my magic, then well, I'm sorry, but you're out of luck! So I ask you, what can you offer me?"

"Myself," Harry said, without missing a beat. He couldn't think of anything else. If Riddle wanted someone, it would be him, not Snape. Snape was actually more vulnerable than he was at the moment, Harry realized. They were both broken, but Snape was in shock. It wouldn't hurt him, Harry thought, if it happened just once more. It wasn't like he was going to get any more contaminated if it happened at the hands of Voldemort.

"Yourself?" Riddle asked skeptically. "Do you really mean that?"

"Potter!" Snape broke in, clearly panicking, yet sneering at the same time. "Get out of here!" Harry looked at Snape, and recognized the same protectiveness that he felt. He shook his head sadly. There was no way he could leave Snape now. Even if he wanted to, Voldemort would never let him go.

"I hardly can stop you, now, can I?" Harry snapped, his tone acerbic.

"Yet you suggest it," Riddle said, taking a step towards his newest prey. Harry didn't back off. Although he wanted to, backing off would only demonstrate that he understood the lack of control that he had. It would only demonstrate his fear.

"Only to protect him," Harry said, pointing a finger at Snape. "Do what you must to me, but leave him alone. He's suffered too much at your hands already."

"Is that really your decision to make?"

"What is my decision is how I conduct myself."

"And you have decided to give yourself to me, in exchange for that one?" Riddle pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at Snape.

"Yes," Harry said, very committed. "Leave him alone and I will give myself over to you."

"What is to stop me from taking you and him?"

"Nothing other than your word," Harry said. He hadn't counted on being unable to work magic, and he had no leverage against Voldemort now.

"Despite what some may say, I am an honorable enemy," Riddle was saying. "If those are the conditions you set forth, those are the conditions I will abide by. What love won't do. Truly, what a weakness love really is. How quickly you become my willing victim." Harry scoffed.

"If you think this is willing, obviously we have a different definition of unwilling!"

"Perhaps," Riddle dismissed, standing within a few inches of Harry. "The Boy-Who-Lived, handing himself over to me." He ran his fingers over Harry's scar and through his hair. Harry looked away and tried not to wince. He looked over at Snape, who was livid now. At least that horrible look of apathy was gone, Harry thought. But Snape needed to go before Voldemort changed his mind.

"Legillimens," Harry whispered so quietly that no one could hear. His mind brushed Snape's, and Snape opened up to him. Harry carefully imagined Snape leaving by means of the fireplace, and then pictured him sitting comfortably in his chambers, safe from Voldemort. Snape just sneered at him, and that, Harry realized, stung more than anything Riddle was doing to him at the moment.

"Your uncle taught you well, I see," Riddle said. "Not resisting at all." He began to disrobe Harry.

"How - ?"

"He broke my mind," Snape said bitterly. There was silence for a moment. "I'm sorry." Harry just nodded. Snape hadn't meant to reveal his secret.

"Just go, Snape!" Harry finally snapped, as Riddle ran his hands over his naked torso, causing his face to cringe. "Just go! Don't make this for nothing!"

"You've already made mine for nothing," Snape said, his eyes suddenly flashing. He stepped over to where his former master and his adoptive son were. "You should never have come! The least you could do is let me continue to protect you in some sort of a sick, twisted way!" Emotions were running high, Harry realized, because suddenly, Snape's voice lost its anger.

"Severus," Riddle said. "Don't you think you should do as the boy says? He did give himself up for you."

"He gave up the war for me!" Snape hissed. "Is that what you wanted, Potter? To condemn the world to whatever fate he assigns simply to save me once? I'm not worth that."

"I told you that anyone who knew and didn't do anything was just as guilty as Vol - I mean, Riddle," Harry said, still wincing under Riddle's ministrations. "Did you want me to bear that guilt too? Just go, already!" Harry averted his eyes from both Snape and Riddle as his abuser lowered him to the ground. Without ceremony, Riddle removed the rest of their clothes. He was too ashamed to look at either of them.

He had given up the war for Snape, he realized. He'd not thought of that. In trying so hard to do that right, noble thing, he had in fact made a horribly wrong choice. He silently cursed his own stupidity. Perhaps sometimes it was better to be a coward, he realized.

"Shall I be considerate?" Riddle asked as his hand crept around to Harry's backside. Harry shook his head. The more pain that was inflicted, the better, Harry figured. He just wanted - he didn't know what he wanted. He wanted Snape to leave. And he wanted his own agony to end. He wanted to forget this mistake - forsaking the world for one person.

"Leave him be, Tom!" Snape screamed, laying a strong hand on the man's shoulder, still trying to protect Harry. But he didn't react to Snape at all. "Leave him be!"

Harry's breath began to come in ragged gasps as he struggled against his own emotions which threatened to overwhelm him. The grief, the anger, the despair. Almost without realizing it, he reached out for something mentally. It was unfamiliar, and Harry grasped it with the strength of a drowning man.

He didn't know what happened, but the world exploded with noise and red. He sighed once, and slipped into unconsciousness.

.oO-Oo.

When he came to in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, Harry's first reaction was to curl himself into a ball.

"If you think you're hiding from me," a familiar voice drawled, "then I'm afraid you'll have to use a more effective method." Slowly, Harry uncurled and saw his potions professor looking at him curiously. Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"What happened?" Harry gasped, rubbing the back of his skull. He had a pounding headache and there was a lump there, so he must have hit his head on something.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Snape commented, taking a seat by Harry's bed. "Somehow, you worked magic in that room, despite the dampers. Do you have any idea how you did such a thing?"

"No, sir," Harry said. "I just - I mean, I felt something. It wasn't from me though. It was inside me, but it wasn't me. And I was desperate and then, well, I passed out."

"I see," Snape said. "How do you feel now?"

"Better than I've ever felt," Harry said sheepishly. Snape just nodded gravely.

"That was what I thought you would say."

"Will you just tell me what's going on?" Harry snapped.

"The Dark Lord is dead," he said simply. "You killed him, in that form. The question is how. You say there was a foreign presence in your mind, and the dampers would only allow the use of Riddle's magical signature. Therefore, it is only reasonable to assume that that presence in your mind was really the Dark Lord. You were able to use it against him, out of your desperation." Harry gave Snape an incredulous look. "Perhaps it would help if I explained a bit more." Snape sighed and began a discourse on the nature of dark magic, eventually ending with an explanation of horcruxes.

"The only thing that makes sense, Potter," he said, "is that you yourself were a horcrux. You purged yourself of it by using that piece of the Dark Lord's soul against him, and you also killed him in his flesh."

"So then - I didn't lose the war?"

"By whatever powers look down on us with favor, you didn't," Snape drawled. "But that doesn't make your actions any less foolish!"

"Is that why I was never able to block Riddle from my mind? Because he was already in it?"

"That is probable," Snape affirmed. "It is impossible to block someone who is already there." Harry nodded.

"So the war's over? We're finished? We're free?"

"Not quite," Snape said. "Don't forget that the Dark Lord may have had other horcruxes. Until they're all destroyed, he can always return."


	10. The Calm Before the Storm

Harry stood nervously outside Dumbeldore's office. Snape had told him to wait there until he was called for. His professor was going to explain the previous day's occurrences to the Headmaster, and only get him when it was time. In some little way, Harry was miffed at being dismissed for this. Sure, it was an unpleasant enough experience for him that he didn't want to relive it, but he still had managed to save the wizarding world, and he wanted credit. The cost had been to high for him not to want credit.

Well, perhaps Snape just didn't understand. Harry still could hear the man saying "Fame isn't everything," in the back of his head. Sure, it wasn't. But it still didn't mean that he had to be left out of things.

.oO-Oo.

What Harry didn't know was that Severus had had to pull a lot of strings already to get Potter released from the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey hadn't wanted to let him out that day - Saturday, the day after the second fall of Voldemort, which was still as of yet, widely unknown - and in return for letting him out at all, Severus had agreed to keep an extra close eye on the boy, and make sure that he didn't go through any shock or trauma for at least two more days.

So he had left Potter outside the office while he explained to the Headmaster. Severus wasn't even sure how he was going to start explaining. He couldn't simply walk in and announce, "The Dark Lord is dead!" and walk out. Yet no matter how he thought, he couldn't come up with a better idea. Severus shrugged internally and figured the words would come when he needed them. They always did.

"Good day to you, Albus," Severus said with a polite nod of his head.

"Hello, Severus," Albus said, clearly curious as to what would cause his most reclusive teacher to seek him out on a Saturday afternoon. "Do have a seat. And a caramel?"

"I prefer to stand, and no," Severus said. "Though I appreciate the change from the usual lemon drop." Albus chuckled.

"And what puts you in such a good mood?" the Headmaster quipped. Severus arched an eyebrow.

"There were noteworthy occurrences last night," he said. "Some of which you will be interested in."

"So you come here as spy, not teacher," Albus said.

"Yes, Albus," Severus said. "And father."

"Oh?" the man asked, still curious.

"Did you know that Potter was a horcrux?"

"I had my suspicions," he said. "You have proof?"

"I have proof that he is no longer," Severus said. Albus' eyes grew wide.

"Then - " Albus said. "Then he is - ?"

"If you're asking after his welfare, he lives," Severus dismissed. "Though certainly no thanks to you."

"How - ?"

"The Dark Lord is dead," Severus announced. "Potter used the power of the horcrux against him last night, and both those parts of Tom Riddle were destroyed."

"What, in the name of Merlin, was Harry doing last night?" Albus finally asked, sounding confused and exasperated.

"That, Headmaster," Severus said, raising an eyebrow again, "is classified information. Suffice to say that I was at a meeting, and Potter panicked. As is the way with Gryffindors, his legs ran before his head thought and he found himself in a confrontation."

"Severus," Albus said with sudden empathy.

"I don't need your pity!" Severus growled. "And I don't need Potter's protection either! Much as he might believe that he's the best there is, I can still take care of myself."

"You don't really think that," Albus said.

"What don't I really think?" Severus challenged.

"That Harry has an inflated self-esteem." Severus paused for a moment before giving one curt nod.

"You're right, I don't think that," he finally admitted. "But this leaves the possibility of the Dark Lord having left other horcruxes. Until they're all destroyed, I'm not free, and Potter isn't safe. The war isn't over, even if the battle has been won."

"Of course, Severus," Albus sighed, lacing his fingers. "It would seem that you intend to see after these horcruxes yourself?" Severus nodded.

"I have the will and the ability. I also have the right."

"So be it," Albus said. "You've never been one to be persuaded by anyone once your mind was made up."

"I know," Severus muttered. Then, in a stronger voice, "Do not be concerned if Potter and I are absent over weekends."

"Why Harry? Surely that's exposing him to more dangers than necessary. If he were to simply stay here - "

"Albus Dumbledore," Severus intoned, "you have no idea. There are many things you don't know, and will never know. I do know what's best for Potter, even if you question my judgement."

"I don't question your judgement, Severus," Albus said kindly. "But you adopted him to keep him away from his relatives and their apparent abuse. If you're sure that hunting horcruxes is appropriate therapy..."

"I'm sure that ignoring the boy is not appropriate therapy!" Severus snapped. "As I said, you don't know. Leave the decisions to me."

"I will," Albus promised.

"Then a good day to you," Severus nodded and left the room. He paused outside the door and looked down his nose at Potter who looked up hopefully at him. He gave into his first instinct to sneer at the boy and Potter's smile faded quickly.

"Come," Severus said. "My office. I need to speak with you privately. Take a different route than I am, or it will look suspicious."

"Yes, sir," Potter said.

.oO-Oo.

A few minutes later, Harry stood at Snape's office door and knocked for admittance. With a quiet creek, the door opened and Harry stepped inside nervously. He hadn't liked the way Snape had looked at him before ordering him to his office. Harry wasn't sure why Snape was so - Snape-ish - today. He'd killed Voldemort, hadn't he? He'd saved Snape, hadn't he? Then why was the man being so curt with him?

"Finally arrived, I see," Snape drawled. "Well, have a seat." Not put at ease by Snape's words, Harry did as instructed, eyes locked onto Snape's face. After a moment of silence, Harry decided he should say something.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, almost breathless. "You seem annoyed, and whatever I did, well, I guess I'm sorry. You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes, Potter," Snape said. "And you can stow the apologies. It's simply your foolish actions last night. By every right, you should be dead today and the Dark Lord should reign supreme. By some divine intervention, it is not so. Yet, we need to seek after the rest of his horcruxes. Until that is done, neither of us are safe, you realize that, do you not?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, playing with his hands nervously. Snape rose and rounded his desk, gazing at Harry sitting just inches from him. Suddenly, Snape's hand shot out and pulled Harry's right hand closer for inspection.

"What - ?" Harry stammered.

"What is right," Snape said, sounding interested and curious. "And what is that on the back of your hand?"

"That? Oh, that's nothing..." Harry stammered. "Really, it's nothing, just a burn."

"A burn which reads 'I must not tell lies'? Unless you wish to insult my intelligence, I advise you tell me the truth."

"Fine," Harry muttered under his breath. "Umbridge gave me detention worse than yours and made me write lines with a blood quill. Happy?" Snape's thumb nail dug into the back of Harry's hand.

"Don't speak to me like that," Snape warned. "Why didn't you speak with McGonagall?"

"Because I didn't want to let Umbridge know she'd gotten to me." Snape sniffed in indignation.

"Corporal punishment has not been allowed at Hogwarts for years," Snape commented.

"Yeah, well 'not allowed at Hogwarts' obviously doesn't mean anything to that old toad."

"Under usual circumstances I would be outraged that you would refer to any professor in such disrespectful terms."

"But you think she's an old toad too," Harry accused.

"I would not wish to insult toads." Harry laughed quietly as Snape released his hand. "Do not let her do that to you again."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"In the meantime, I will try to discover the most likely artifacts that the Dark Lord would have used for horcruxes. Dismissed, Potter."

"Yes, sir, thank you," Harry said as he rose and left the room.

.oO-Oo.

"Harry! Is it true?" Hermione hissed as he entered the common room. Every Gryffindor there stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Only Ron and Hermione made any move to approach him though. Harry almost smiled at her, but didn't answer. She pulled him into a corner with Ron. The others began their excited, quiet chatter.

"Well?" Ron prompted excitedly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You-Know-What," Hermione said. "Is You-Know-Who really - ?"

"Yeah," Harry said, a genuine smile creeping over his feature. "Yeah, he is. Last night. It was kinda an accident."

"How?" Ron asked breathlessly.

"I sort of flooed into the aftermath of a Death Eater meeting, I guess," he said, shrugging. "And there was a bit of a struggle, but by the end, well, somehow he was dead and I wasn't." He quickly explained about the horcruxes, careful to leave out any parts of the story that would have caused his friends to question Snape's involvement in the whole incident. He suspected that Hermione knew there was more to story, but he also knew that she would understand that that was a part of the story to which she would not be welcome.

"So you and Snape, you're going to go hunt these things?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry shrugged. "Snape's just being Snape. He's not really telling me a whole lot."

"Of course," Ron snorted.

"I don't think he knows a whole lot about what's going on either," Harry offered.

"Stop with the first 7 words," Ron chuckled, and Harry and Hermione laughed quietly as well.

"How had you guys heard?" Harry asked.

"The Slytherins were whispering about it, especially Malfoy."

"Yeah, I guess they'd be some of the first to know," Harry conceded.

"The rumor is all over the school now. Some of the theories that have been proposed! Oh!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, rummaging in her pocket. "I got this passed to me today by Professor McGonagall. It's for you, Harry." She handed him a bit of parchment, sealed with wax, and Harry opened it.

He's dead. He'll never hurt you again, Harry.

Snuffles

"How does he know?" Harry immediately asked the air around him. After all, Snape had just told Dumbledore about Voldemort's death. How could Sirius had known already, and why did he think this message was necessary? Harry shrugged and shoved the parchment into his pocket, happy for once that his weekend had been productive. And it was only Saturday.


	11. The Blinds on Our Hearts

On medical leave from his classes for the next few days, Harry paced in his dorm. The farthest he ventured out was the Gryffindor common room, and that only to see Hermione. It disturbed him more than he liked to admit that Snape was furious with him. He knew the man still cared - or he wouldn't have discussed the fading scars left on his hand by Umbridge - but Harry was about as happy with himself as Snape was. Harry had always thought that he would be happier after killing Voldemort, but no, he was still restless. Perhaps even more so, because up until this point, he'd always had a clear goal, a mission, in mind. Now that it was complete, what purpose was his existence? Snape had talked about hunting horcruxes, but really, he doubted that he would get much part in that. Snape didn't like him even if he tolerated him, and undoubtedly it would be deemed too dangerous a mission for the Boy-Who-Lived. In an almost sulky manner, Harry slumped down on his bed against the headboard. There was a soft knock at the door.

"Hey," Ron said as he cracked the door. "How are you doing?" Harry's expression softened at his friend's voice.

"Hey," he returned. "I'm okay." Ron just nodded.

"It's almost funny to see Malfoy now," Ron said conversationally. "He's jumpy and he runs whenever someone wants to talk to him. It's almost like he's afraid some Death Eater is going to kill him now that You-Know-Who's gone."

"Maybe they will," Harry said. "Did you have something specific to tell me?"

"No," Ron said. "Just came up here to check on you."

"I don't need checking on," Harry muttered sullenly. He wasn't angry with Ron. He didn't have the energy to be angry with Ron.

"Yeah you do," Ron contradicted. "Hermione and I worried about you."

"No need to worry," Harry said, rising from his bed.

"Harry!" Ron barked at him. For a moment Harry just blinked at his friend stupidly. "Stop it! Right now!"

"What?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"This!" Ron said waving his hand indistinctly. "This whole 'I'm better than the lot of you' attitude you have going on!"

"What?" Harry repeated. "I don't think I'm better than - "

"Then what's all this morbid secret keeping? You won't talk about yourself, you won't spend time with us, and when you do, you're ready to jump at everything. You and Snape are all friendly now - "

"I wouldn't call it friendly," Harry interjected. Ron didn't even seem to notice.

" - and you're doing extra credit potions? Really? And you got a cryptic note from Snuffles that makes no sense. I didn't even need Hermione to figure it out that something's going on, and you're not telling us. We're tired of you leaving us out." Ron finished his speech in a truly wounded tone.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, genuine and shocked. "I don't want to drag you and Hermione into my problems. They don't involve you. And if it helps, you have as good an idea what that note meant as I do."

"Harry, we're your friends. If you can't trust your friends, who can you trust?"

"That's just the point - I can't trust anyone, not with this."

"Whatever your problem is, it sounds like someone should know."

"Snape does," Harry shrugged.

"What'd he have to do, beat it out of you?" Harry winced.

"Close," he said with a shudder. Harry pressed his lips together tightly and he had a far away look in his eyes. Slowly, without any sudden movements, Ron reached out and laid his hand on Harry's shoulder. He shied away at the touch, but calmed himself quickly.

"Hermione and I just want to help," Ron said. "We can't help you if you won't let us."

"You can't help," Harry said shaking his head sadly. "No one can, not even Snape."

"How can you know for sure?"

"I just can," Harry evaded. "Leave me alone. Please."

"No!" Ron said, stamping his foot for emphasis. "We've been doing that all year and nothing's improved. We tried things your way, and it didn't help. Now you try things our way. It can't be any worse, can it?"

"Yes, it can!" Harry shouted, now angry beyond anything he could remember. "I can lose you and Hermione forever! As long as we don't speak of it, it's like it never happened, okay? If you knew...if you knew what happened this summer, you would leave. And I wouldn't blame you." Harry's voice calmed some, and he dragged his sleeve across his eyes.

"Look, I'm sure whatever it is, it's fine," Ron said. "Is it something you did?" Harry paused.

"No," he said eventually, "not exactly."

"There you go," Ron remarked. "If it's not something you did, then it can't be your fault, can it?"

"Well...no," Harry grudgingly agreed.

"They why would you think Hermione and I would dump you over it?" Ron questioned further.

"It's not that simple," Harry muttered, turning away from his friend.

"Yeah, it is," Ron said. "Look are you going to tell us or not?"

"No," Harry murmured. "It's better if you don't know." Ron's eyes narrowed and he spun on his heel.

"Fine," Ron said. "Fine be that way. But don't expect me to confide anything to you either." Ron left, slamming the door behind him. Harry threw himself on his bed, curled into a ball, and buried his face in the pillow, trying to muffle any sounds that came.

.oO-Oo.

"I'm concluding he didn't say anything," Hermione observed as she watched Ron's glower soften into worry.

"No, not other than something happened last summer, but he didn't do it. He's afraid we're going to abandon him if he tells us."

"Either something's really messed with his mind or we've been pretty terrible friends for the past 4 and a half years."

"Maybe some of both," Ron shrugged. They were silent for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. "It's an Imperius Curse!" Ron finally exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "It has to be. Harry wouldn't have done it then, but he still would have, enough that he feels guilty about it. But he didn't choose to do it!"

"Ron, don't be stupid," Hermione said, clearly giving his idea consideration. "It can't be an Imperius curse!"

"And why not?"

"Because - because Harry threw off the Imperius curse that Crouch Jr. put on him, didn't he? And if a Death Eater had succeeded at that, why wouldn't they have just killed him? Or at least made a fuss about having gotten through Dumbledore's protections?"

"Fine, fine," Ron muttered, taking his seat again, defeated.

"It was a good idea though," Hermione amended.

"He said Snape knows," Ron volunteered quietly.

"Why didn't you say that before?" Hermione snapped. "Let's go talk to him, then." She rose, grabbed her bag, and made for the exit to the common room.

"What? No! I mean - " Ron stammered. Hermione stepped through the threshold. "Fine." He followed her.

.oO-Oo.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Severus barked in his usual brisk tone as he continued to pour over a pile of dusty books from the restricted section of the library. Not bothering to look up, he said, "What do you want?"

"It's about Harry, sir," Hermione said, putting forth her bravest tone of voice. Severus glanced up.

"And what do you think I can do for Potter, Granger? Weasley?"

"He said you knew," she pressed.

"Knew what?" Severus slammed his book shut and gave them his full attention in what he thought looked like a long-suffering way.

"What happened over the summer."

"So what if I do?"

"We need to talk to you about it. We need to know what the best thing for us to do is."

"So he's told you, has he?" Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then back at Snape. At the same time, Hermione said, "Yes," and Ron said, "No." Hermione glared at Ron for a moment and Ron looked horrified.

"So he hasn't told you. Then it is not my place to say. Go about your business or I'll assign you another essay." Without acknowledgement, they turned to leave.

"Good one, Ron," Hermione hissed at him. "Our one shot at finding out."

"It's not my fault!" Ron hissed back. "How should I have known you would try to lie? It's not like that's going to make Harry trust us!"

"Weasley is right," Snape called suddenly. "You would do well to gain his trust rather than undermine it." The two stopped and looked at Snape, who had returned to his books. They didn't responding in anyway other than to glance at each other. They silently closed the door behind them.

.oO-Oo.

Just as silently as she had closed Snape's office door, she opened the door to the boy's fifth year dormitory. Normally she didn't trespass but this wasn't a normal situation. She would just have to try where Ron had failed. She found Harry with his face still in his pillow, though by now his breathing had evened off. He was sleeping, though not very peacefully, judging by the state of his robes and bedsheets. She began to reach out to wake him.

"No, don't touch me!" he whimpered suddenly. Taken aback, she retreated suddenly. Harry rolled over, and she realized that he wasn't awake yet. He shuddered. She steeled her resolution to wake him then and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Harry!" she called. "Harry, wake up!"

"Huh?" Harry grunted as he jolted awake. "Hermione?" He looked at her. "Oh, thank God," he breathed.

"You were having a nightmare," she said, then glanced at the brilliantly shining sun, and amended, "a daymare."

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said as he slipped off the bed. "So you've come to see if I'll tell you anything, I suppose? Because it failed for Ron?"

"Well..." Hermione paused. "Yeah."

"Hermione," Harry said, very patiently, "I already told you it's something I need to deal with on my own. You and Ron can't help. There's nothing you can do."

"Harry, we just want you to talk to us!" Hermione was almost ready to break down in tears herself it seemed. "What did we do to make you not trust us?"

"Nothing," Harry said hastily. "You never did anything. It's just - "

"What, Harry? We even went and talked to Snape."

"Did he - ?" Harry suddenly looked alarmed.

"No, he didn't. You're drifting away from us, and we don't want to let that happen. But if you don't tell us, there's nothing we can do. Sure, we'll be friends for awhile, because Ron and I won't give up. But it won't last. Ron said you were afraid of losing us, but if you don't tell us, our friendship is going to crumble anyway. The more secrets you have, the more secrets we'll all have, and the more superficial our friendship will become." Harry sighed and pinched his nose.

"Fine," he said after a moment of silence. "You have a point. I'll lose you one way or another, so we might as well clear the air." He stalked past Hermione and down the flight of stairs to where Ron was sitting in the common room.

"The Room of Requirement. Now," Harry said, his face as stern as they'd ever seen it. He was simply hiding his storming hurricane of emotions though. Ron and Hermione followed him a safe distance back. All three were silent as they paraded their way to a place where no one could over hear them.

Harry's mind, on the other hand, was anything but silent. He was panicking with ideas of how his friends would react. Why had he even agreed to tell them? He began to regret his decision, but it was too late to turn back now. He'd promised them the long awaited information, and now he had to deliver on it. He was sure they'd be disgusted with him. What he feared more than that was a false friendship, one that they felt they had to maintain because they had said they would.

Harry paced in front of the door to the Room of Requirement and it appeared. Just as silently as they came, they entered, and the door sealed off behind them. Harry had seen this room once before. There was a fire raging in an otherwise darkened room while three mugs of steaming hot chocolate waited for them on the nearby table. Harry picked up two of them and handed them to his friends.

"Here," he said. "It's good for more than just dementors." Why he decided to quote Snape of all people now, he didn't know. He gestured that Ron and Hermione should take a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace, and they did. Nervously, Harry began to pace in front of the fire. He wrong his hands, and sucked in his breath. Releasing it, he began to bite on his lip. He glanced at his audience, but only Ron was looking at him. Hermione was watching her drink, but clearly waiting for him to start. Neither seemed impatient. Harry locked gases with Ron, and suddenly didn't know what to do.

"I don't know where to start," he finally said, lamely. "So much has happened."

"Just start when you left the train, Harry," Hermione said softly. "You can come sit with us if you want." He nodded mutely and Ron and Hermione made a place for him in between them. Harry snatched up his own drink and cradled it in his hands, trying to let the heat of it warm his soul. Each of his friends moved closer to him and put an arm around him. Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, and he in turn laid his on hers.

"Just start wherever you want, no need to rush," Ron said. Harry nodded.

"Yeah," Harry said, more as an introduction than an acknowledgement, "yeah, so I got off the train, and I got picked up - "

"Your family?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, or rather my uncle, just him this time. Scared me, him being alone like that. He'd never pick me up alone, since I'm Petunia's nephew. But I didn't ask any questions. Just put my stuff in the trunk and he took me back to Private Drive." Harry began to quiver, and Ron and Hermione held him closer, trying to convey their sympathies. "Thanks, guys," Harry muttered. "So summer was pretty normal except that my aunt and uncle kept fighting about everything. I didn't know what was wrong, but every weekend my aunt would take Dudley and leave."

"So it was only you and your uncle in the house on weekends?" Ron asked. Harry nodded, as he got a far away look in his eyes.

"And it was all going quite well actually. I was getting fed and they weren't even hitting me this summer - "

"They hit you?" Hermione gasped.

"Yeah...didn't you know?"

"No," Ron and Hermione said together.

"Well, it's neither here nor there," Harry shrugged. "I was pleasantly surprised when it didn't happen this summer. Then one weekend, well, I was stupid, and my uncle tricked me into going into his bedroom." Ron and Hermione both stiffened. Neither was stupid. Hermione began to run her hand over Harry's back sympathetically. "I mean, it was my fault for falling for it, I guess," Harry stammered on.

"No, it wasn't," Ron said firmly. "Continue."

"So...I really don't know what to say. Like I said, my aunt and uncle were fighting, which meant that my uncle got to spend the nights she was there on the couch, and so...yeah. When she wasn't there..." His voice broke, and he set his cup down quickly before he should drop it. Harry hung his head in his hands and his breathing became suspiciously uneven.

"That's okay, Harry," Hermione cooed to him. "We understand." Harry just shook his head, because, no, they didn't.

"So that's why he wanted you back over Christmas?" Ron asked. Without picking his head up, Harry nodded.

"I'm so sorry," Ron murmured. "We had no idea. Why did Dumbledore send you back?"

"He didn't know," Harry said, finally taking his hands an inch or so from his face. He sniffed.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Hermione asked sharply. Harry flinched at her tone.

"I couldn't, I still have trouble saying it, I still haven't said it." Hermione nodded.

"And you thought we'd dump you over that?" Ron asked, incredulous. "You really think we'd just walk out because your uncle was a bastard?" Harry shrugged.

"I don't know, it's just so humiliating," Harry said, pulling his feet up to the seat of the couch, and leaning his forehead against his knees. "Please don't go."

"We won't, Harry, we'll always be there for you," Hermione said. "The only way we won't is if we're dead."

"How did Snape find out?" Ron asked.

"He kept after me until I finally told," Harry said, still curled into his ball.

"And he's been - you know - good about it?" he pressed.

"Yeah," Harry said, and they could hear a wry smile, "he's been fine." Snape's tale wasn't his to tell.

"Thanks for telling us, Harry," Hermione murmured.

"No," Harry muttered back, letting the two of them continue both their emotional and physical support, "thank you for staying."


	12. Post On Sunday

After Harry's breathing had calmed again, the three friends silently made their way back to the Gryffindor common room. Though not a word passed between them, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was the kind of silence where everything to be said had been said, or rather, nothing could be said which would be adequate. Hermione and Ron knew that they couldn't possibly have words to comfort Harry, but perhaps in their simple presence, some good could still be worked, and they were right.

Due to the late hour at which they returned, the common room was almost empty. A couple people were still up studying, and a few more had failed in that attempt and were now snoring loudly, which was a perfect cover for any murmurs which the three would pass to each other before falling into unconsciousness themselves.

"Good night, Harry," Hermione said, touching his arm briefly. "Library to study tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Harry said, smiling a bit. He knew that this was Hermione's way of inviting him to what she felt to be her private lair, and he appreciated it for what the gesture really was.

"'Night, Hermione," Ron said, and with a nod, Hermione went to the girls' dormitory for the night. The two boys turn and climbed their own stairs. Before they entered the room with the other sleeping fifth years (who might not be all asleep quite yet), Ron stopped, and along with him, Harry.

"So that explains the nightmares and the sleeping potions," he observed. Harry flushed slightly and shrugged. "It's fine," Ron assured him. "That was some pretty strong sleeping potion wasn't it?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "I think it's actually really brilliant that you altered the instructions the way you did to make it suit what you wanted. For having the poorest grades in potions next to Crabbe and Goyle, you're actually really good at it."

"Thanks, I guess," Harry said, unsure how to react to Ron's awkwardness. It was obvious he wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say. "I'm tired," Harry said abruptly. "Talk in the morning?"

"Yeah, sure," Ron said. "Sleep well." It was the most sincere "sleep well" that Harry had ever received.

.oO-Oo.

Harry had his typical restless night's sleep, only this time his nightmares also took a new level - one where he would lose Ron and Hermione as his friends. It was far from an easy night for him. He woke early, anxious to be away from the personal hell his mind created for him, and glancing at the still sleeping figure of Ron, pulled on his day clothes. As he closed his trunk, though, the top slipped through his hands.

"Shhhhhh..." he hissed at it, almost making more nose than the crash had. Neville and the others turned over or moaned in their sleep, but didn't wake up. Ron, on the other hand, was awake. "Sorry!" Harry mouthed as he tried to slip away. Maybe Ron wouldn't even remember if he went back to sleep quickly, or maybe he would think it was a dream. Harry wished he could get more sleep, so that he wouldn't be so clumsy.

"It's fine," Ron whispered back.

"Okay, see you later," Harry said quickly. He slipped out, and walked down the stairs. At some level, he regretted telling Ron and Hermione about his summer. He was still left waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to reject him. He wasn't sure which was worse - his summer, or the aftereffects. Ah, but it was just all one big mess, why did he have to chose at all? Suddenly, he sat down on the next to the last step and hung his head. This was one of those mornings where everything didn't look better. His breathing became uneven, and in the silent, abandoned common room, it was the only noise heard.

A hand touched Harry's shoulder. Jumping to his feet with a cry of shock, Harry spun and saw Ron sitting next to where he had been. He calmed himself, still embarrassed.

"Yes?" Harry asked. Ron was dressed as well, he observed, and apparently had no intention of going back to sleep.

"Harry, I'm just worried about you," Ron said.

"Yeah, well, I'm fine," Harry lied. Ron knew it was a lie; Harry knew Ron knew it.

"Look, we don't have to talk about it," he began, "but don't hide it. Just be you."

"And what if I'm not who you used to know?"

"Then I'll just accept you for who you are now," Ron said simply. "What would you do if our positions were reversed?" Harry was quiet a moment, but sat down next to Ron. He rested his chin in his hands and gazed out over the common room.

"Breakfast?" Ron suggested.

"Sure," Harry agreed.

.oO-Oo.

The two of them made their way to the Great Hall. It was Sunday morning and no one else had gotten up yet, not even the teachers, yet the house elves had the food ready for Ron and Harry by the time they sat down. They ate in friendly silence.

"Do you have any plans today?" Ron finally asked.

"Nope," Harry replied, stuffing some more toast into his mouth.

"Hermione's probably going to be in the library all day. Want to join her then?"

"Sure," Harry said, but then there was a soft pop at his elbow. Dobby hopped up and down clutching a rolled piece of parchment.

"For Harry Potter, sir!" he squeaked. He held it out, and Harry took it and unrolled it. The wax seal came away easily.

"Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"Snape," Harry replied, his brow furrowing.

"What does he want?" Ron asked.

"Doesn't say," Harry said, puzzled and confused.

"Have a good day, Harry Potter!" Dobby interrupted. "If Harry Potter needs anything, just ask Dobby, sir!"

"Thank you, Dobby, I will," Harry replied, and the little elf popped away again. Ron gave him a questioning gaze as he glanced at the parchment.

"He just says he wants to see me today in his office as soon as possible and that it may take awhile," Harry explained. He showed Ron the parchment.

"Mr. Potter,

I expect you in my office as soon as reasonably possible after you receive this. Be prepared to spend the day.

Professor Snape"

"Well, that's certainly ominous enough," Ron commented. "Why so vague?"

"Who knows who might read it? The seal was broken what I got it. Umbridge probably read it, or Filch. I guess I won't be able to come to the library then," Harry continued, almost sorrowful. He had wanted to spend the day with his friends, as his sign of good faith to match theirs, but whatever Snape wanted would have to take precedence, he knew. It's not like the man was summoning him for a social call.

There was obviously some business Snape had in mind, something that wasn't going to wait if he sent the memo with a house elf at this hour of a Sunday morning. Harry figured that Snape would want to spend about as much time with him as Ron would want to cough up slugs again. Shrugging, Harry stuck the note in his pocket and stood up.

"Send Hermione my regrets?" he said. Ron nodded.

"I would say have a good time..." Ron said ruefully.

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'm sure I'll be back tonight."

Harry grabbed his school bag and meandered his way to Snape's office. He wasn't in any hurry, and stopped along the way to study the pictures, or odd gargoyles, or even the decoration on the wallpaper. Finally, when he didn't think he could put Snape off any longer, he knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Snape barked. Hesitantly, Harry opened the door and slipped through, closing it silently behind him. The room was dark, as usual, with two or three candles burning in corners of the room. It had the usual smell of potions as well, though the candles seemed to be scented and were masking the putrid odor. The room was comfortable warm, and the only sound was of Snape's quill scratching at a stack of essays he was grading.

"I got your note, sir," he said.

"Obviously, or you wouldn't be here," Snape said, not looking up nor stopping his writing. Harry winced, but Snape didn't see it. Obviously, he was still writing.

"Sorry, sir," Harry muttered. He sat on the edge of a chair near Snape's desk and began to wait. The silence was heavy and Harry didn't like it. He also had no intention of breaking it since his last comment hadn't gone over so well. After what seemed like an eternity, Snape put down his quill and looked at him. Harry squirmed ever so slightly, and dropped his eyes.

"I've been looking into this matter of horcruxes," Snape began. "With help from the Headmaster, I have a viable theory about them. In short, we will be looking for the Dark Lord's snake, a cup of Hufflepuff's, and Slytherin's locket. There will be another item, likely belonging to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, though what it is, neither Dumbledore nor I know."

"You mean, things the founders owned?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Snape said patiently. "The Dark Lord had, and still has, a great affinity for the school, its houses, and its disciplines. He has an excellent sense of poetic justice."

"You speak of him in the present tense," Harry observed. "Why?"

"Because as long as there is even one horcrux left," Snape snapped, "then the Dark Lord still exists. Don't forget that, and don't become complacent simply because he lost his bodily form. He came back once, and he can come back again." Snape's lips made a thin line, and he picked up his pen again.

"You're afraid," Harry said. Snape sneered at his paper, but didn't reply.

"I want you to come with me to find the horcruxes," Snape finally said. Harry's jaw moved up and down but no sound came out.

Finally, he said, "Me, sir?"

"Is there anyone else in the room I could possibly be speaking to?" Harry looked around, just to make sure they were quite alone. They were.

"No, sir," he said.

"Then, if you will, the Headmaster gave me a lead on where to find the first horcrux."

"Why?"

"...because he wants the Dark Lord defeated as much as we do?" Snape said, his eyes narrowing at Harry.

"No, why do you want me to come with you?"

"You have as much right to be part of this as I do," Snape explained. "Do you not want to come?"

"No," Harry hesitated, "I do, it's just that - well, I never expected - "

"Me to ask you along?" Snape finished. He was seeming to get impatient now.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed.

"And normally I wouldn't," Snape said, "it's that you also have this right which I won't deny, and it will help you get your mind off things." Harry snorted. So at some level, this was something of a social call, Harry realized suddenly. Snape was inviting him to spend time with him. "Are you ready?" Snape asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Then let us leave the school grounds before anyone notices our absence, and apparate. Follow me, Harry."

The two of them left Snape's office, Harry trailing a few steps behind. Harry had no idea where Snape was going, but continued to follow wordlessly. Finally, after taking a very indirect route, Snape stopped in front of what Harry knew to be one of the secret passageways.

"What are we - " Harry began.

"You think I don't know about them?" Snape asked, almost amused. "I did have the misfortune of coming here with your father." They stepped into the passageway and made their way to just outside the no-apparating limit.

"Take my arm," Snape ordered, and Harry hesitantly reached out. Once contact had been solidly established, and Snape found he didn't die at the boy's touch, they disappeared with a loud crack.

Only a dog was witness to this event.


	13. Love Built Upon the Sand

After the initial wave of nausea passed, Harry released Snape's arm. He opened his tightly closed eyes, and glanced around. They were atop a mountain, standing on a ledge. To Harry's left was a sharp cliff. The cold morning wind caused Snape's cape to wrap around him. Harry felt slightly uncomfortable and stepped out of the cloak's range. He could smell the sea crashing against the rocks below.

Snape took out his wand and muttered a lumos charm. He stepped towards an opening in the rock and Harry followed, a few paces behind.

"Do what I tell you," Snape ordered briskly once they were covered in the shadow of the cave. "I can't have any of your Gryffindor non-sense, understand? You got lucky once. Don't count on it happening again." Snape's voice was cold, and he didn't look at Harry.

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered. "Please don't stay angry over that." Harry didn't think he could deal with Snape's snide remarks for much longer.

"I'm not," Snape said curtly. "We have a job to do, and I want to get it done without heroics. I won't be responsible for your death too." Harry nodded silently in the darkness. They came to a stone door and Snape began to try different spells to open it.

"Here," he said, abruptly handing his wand to Harry. Shocked, Harry accepted it. Deftly, Snape took out a knife and sliced his hand.

"What are you - ?" Harry suddenly objected. Without answering, Snape smeared his hand over the rock before them, then stepped aside as the door opened. He muttered a healing spell, and his hand knitted back together as though nothing had happened.

"I was opening the door," Snape said blandly, taking his wand back. "Follow me." He stepped into the darkness. Harry paused for a moment, but then quickly ran after Snape. He might not like the look of the cave, but it was safer to be with his potions professor than without him.

"Stay close," Snape warned as they made their way to what appeared to be a lake. "Don't touch the water. I don't know what the Dark Lord may have hidden in it, and the longer it doesn't know we're here, the better."

"Then how will we cross?" After a moment, Snape muttered another spell, and a boat raised itself from the depths of the water. Harry nodded, impressed.

"Get in," Snape ordered, as he stepped into the boat himself. It was wet and moldy, but still solid enough to be safe. It brought with it a putrid, rotten odor from the bottom of the lake. Harry made a retching noise as he caught a full whiff of the smell.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"Inferi," Snape replied. "Best to keep your hands out of the water if at all possible. It's incredibly difficult to kill something which is already dead." Harry shuddered but didn't reply. Instead he gazed over the side of the boat into the murky water. Sure enough, he could see the white, wrinkled faces of the promised Inferi. Harry feared to ask how Snape knew them by their smell.

He observed the man in front of him, rowing steadily towards an island in the middle of the water. Harry could see the lines of worry around Snape's mouth and eyes. They made Snape look older than he really was. Yet the man rowed on, both in the boat and in life. Harry thought he could admire such dogged determination.

Landing on the island rudely interrupted his thoughts. Snape stepped out of the boat, and Harry followed. There was a basin with a sickly green liquid in it and a goblet next to it.

"Obviously the intention was that anyone who got this far has to drink the potion," Snape drawled distastefully, eying the goblet.

"Obviously anyone who does will die," Harry said equally distastefully.

"Not immediately, though without proper treatment, yes," Snape said. Harry blinked and searched Snape's face to see if he was bluffing. But wait, he'd never known Snape to bluff. Harry dismissed the thought immediately.

"How do you know?"

"I made it." Harry blinked, but accepted the answer.

"So...you have the antidote then?" Harry asked.

"I have never actually made the antidote," Snape explained, picking up the goblet and weighing it thoughtfully in his hand. "The Dark Lord requested a potion with specific properties and I made it for him. He never told me what he was using it for, and I never asked." Harry nodded solemnly.

"Please don't drink it then," Harry said casually. "We can always come back once you've made the antidote."

"Or we can simply get around the intention of this set up," Snape suggested. Without waiting for an answer from Harry, Snape plunged the goblet into the liquid, and pulled out a sample of the apparently very thick substance.

"No, don't!" Harry immediately pleaded, stepping forward, putting his hand on Snape's wrist to stop him.

"I have no intention of drinking it," Snape explained, sounding almost amused. He proceeded to pour the potion on the ground. "The potion cannot be banished or transfigured. It must be taken out of the basin in this goblet. But once that has happened, who is to say what must happen to the potion? I could drink it, yes, but pouring it on the ground is just as effective."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling stupid as he backed away. "Sorry."

"I appreciate your concern," Snape replied as he reached in for a second, then a third goblet of the potion. As he predicted, this method worked to get rid of the potion. At the bottom of the basin was a gold locket. Snape picked it up and placed it in his pocket.

"And thus we have retrieved our first horcrux," he said. "Let's go, before something goes wrong. I feel we've already overstayed our welcome." The two got back into the boat and rowed to the other shore. Perhaps it was because the mission had been so easy that Harry felt uncomfortable, like something bad was still going to happen. But they left the cave and nothing had. In fact, despite the darkness of the day, it was only afternoon. When Harry realized this, his stomach decided to protest loudly. He looked embarrassed when Snape snorted quietly.

"Quite right," Snape agreed. "I want to visit a certain house before we go back to Hogwarts," he continued, "and in the meantime, I have brought some food. Take my arm and we'll find a more appropriate place to eat." Harry did as instructed and Harry found he and Snape standing in a small clearing under the shadow of the mountain. Snape summoned some kindling, and lit a fire with his wand. Then he took a small purple bag and pulled from it a mass of white much too big to have been in there.

"What would you like?" Snape asked, wand poised above the mass. Harry looked confused, and didn't answer. "It's something Professor McGonagall invented," Snape explained. "It itself is made from organic material, which means it can be transfigured into food. The difficulty in transfiguring food comes from the principle that transfiguration only changes the accidents of a thing, not the substance, and when you eat food, you are eating the substance. Since this has the substance of food, I can transfigure it into any food related item you want." Harry's mouth made a silent "Oh." They were silent for a few minutes.

"And? Is there anything you would like?" Snape pressed.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said quickly. He seemed to glance around quickly for an idea. His eyes fell on the fire. "How about s'mores?" Snape nodded after a moment.

"Alright then." He muttered the appropriate spells, and soon had a sufficient quantity of graham crackers, chocolate and marshmallows. The two of them were silent as they sat across from each other, each toasting a marshmallow on some branches. When Harry's was done to his satisfaction, he constructed it. After a moment of admiring the job he had done, he tasted it. His eyes got wide and then he closed them in blissful happiness.

"This is really good!" he suddenly said.

"You've never had them before?" Snape guessed.

"No, I haven't," Harry admitted, coloring a little. "I mean, the Dursleys never let me have any," he tried to repress a shudder at the thought, "and I've never seen wizards have any."

"Wizards generally don't," Snape informed him.

"You knew what they were though."

"I'm not stupid." They fell silent again. After a few minutes, Harry shifted his weight nervously.

"I told Ron and Hermione," Harry finally said.

"Good," Snape said. "They were quite concerned about you."

"Still are," Harry shrugged.

"As they have a right to be." Harry nodded. "How are you doing?" Snape asked quietly.

"Okay," Harry said with a grimace. "I'll be fine. As long as I never have to go back there. I wouldn't be able to take it. I'm not that strong."

"I can promise you that will never happen," Snape said, but his voice was drowned out by a rustling in the bushes. Snape leaped to his feet, his partially toasted marshmallow going up in the flames. He drew his wand and stood ready to attack should the need arise. Harry was only a few moments behind him.

Out of the bush stepped Sirius. Snape lowered his wand and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"What do you want now?" he asked. "And how did you find us?"

"Saw you disapparate, Snivellus, simple tracking spell," Sirius replied. Harry winced at the form of address. "I want my godson back."

"Sirius," Harry began suddenly, "I'm fine, really I am, I told you."

"Harry," Sirius began, as he stepped towards his godson. Snape tried to step between them but Harry indicated he didn't want this, so Snape stepped aside, though his wand was still out if necessary. Harry had put his away. "Harry, he's dead."

"I know, I killed him, I killed Vold- I mean - the Dark Lord," Harry said. "You wrote that in your message."

"He is?" Sirius asked, suddenly confused. "How did you - ? Nevermind, congratulations! But I wasn't talking about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Who - ?"

"Your uncle."

"My - ?"

"Yes, he got what he deserved."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, his face darkening, as he stepped back away from his godfather.

"Harry, I found out, I'm sorry," Sirius said. "I'm so sorry." Harry looked at Snape hopelessly. Snape looked away.

"It's a long story," Snape muttered.

"So you told everyone?" Harry accused.

"I would hardly say having the Dark Lord break my mind and simply handing your uncle over to Black telling him to avenge you counts as everyone," Snape said, eyes blazing. "Get out of here," he said to Sirius.

"What? I'm confused," Harry said.

"Your uncle sent a message asking about you," Snape sighed, "and I went in your place, using polyjuice potion. This tricked him long enough to let me into the house. I turned him into a bat after that. Then there was a meeting, and I still had him in my pocket. The rest, I believe, is Black's part of the tale." Harry turned to his godfather with accusing eyes.

"Dumbledore - and Snape - they're really working for their own ends," Sirius said. "It's hard to explain. You can't stay with Snape, he's going to hurt you, he'll use you. I went to this, this meeting, to try to discredit him as the spy he is!"

"You what?" Harry whispered, pale and in shock.

"Before I left, though, he handed your uncle over to me. I learned from him everything I know."

"You what?" Harry repeated. He sat down, his back against a tree trunk.

"Harry, Harry," Sirius said, kneeling down next to his godson. "Think for a moment. I don't know what you're upset about. Snape is going to use you. He doesn't love you. You're going to end up worse if you trust him. He doesn't love you."

"I know that!" Harry suddenly burst out. "I know he doesn't! But it can be nice to pretend." Harry felt hot tears come to his eyes, and he pressed his fists against his temples trying to block out everything that was happening. He closed his eyes tightly and began to rock back and forth. "I can't, I can't, no, don't." Sirius backed away, unsure what was happening, and even more unsure what to do.

"Get away from him," Snape sneered, as he knelt beside the boy. "Harry!" he called forcefully. "You're here, not there. You're here with me, and nothing bad will happen to you." Harry covered his ears and continued to rock. "Fine," Snape muttered to himself, and if looked could kill, Sirius would have been dead at that moment. Snape sat down next to Harry and took him in his arms. Holding him still, Snape proceeded to remind Harry over and over that he was safe and not at the Dursleys. After a few minutes, Harry began to breathe more evenly. He seemed to be coming around.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked. Tears still streamed from Harry's eyes, but he nodded.

"Harry, everything will be alright," Sirius said. "You'll never have to fear that again." Harry nodded again, but refused to look at either Snape or Sirius.

"I need to be by myself," Harry said suddenly and ran into the woods, far from silently. They could hear the broken sobs and retching the wind carried back. Snape began to follow Harry and then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he stepped dangerously close to Sirius, close enough to speak softly into his ear.

"Contrary to what you seem to believe, I do love the boy." Then Snape turned and followed Harry.


	14. The Pavement of the Road to Hell

Severus stomped through the woods after the boy. He wasn't concerned about the amount of noise he made. It would actually be preferable, he thought, if Harry knew someone was there. That way, he would scare Harry anymore than he already was. In a matter of a few yards, Severus found him. Harry was kneeling in a small clearing, his back to his professor. Harry had wrapped his arms around his middle as he quietly sobbed, and continued to lose what little food he'd managed to eat. Harry didn't seem to notice him.

Quietly, Severus knelt beside Harry and put his arm across his shoulders. Harry flinched away, and muttered something.

"Pardon?" Severus asked.

"Go away," Harry muttered a little more coherently this time. "I said I wanted to be alone." Severus nodded, and squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"It's not safe to be alone in these woods," Severus said calmly.

"I don't care," Harry sobbed. He seemed to have calmed his stomach, but he was far from better.

"You could be killed if you were alone."

"Good."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

"Oh, come here," Severus sighed and pulled Harry close. Harry returned the embrace, and began to cry freely. They were silent for some minutes, while Severus held the boy close, almost hoping to squeeze all the hurt and pain from him.

Severus realized that if he could, he would take Harry's pain himself. When his tears didn't ease, Severus didn't know what do.

"It's alright, Harry," he said. "I'm here, and you'll never have to go back to your uncle again." But it seemed to have the opposite effect that Severus was hoping for. Harry continued to cry all the harder. His fists made bunches of Severus' clothes, like Harry was clinging on to the only thing he could reach in the hurricane he called his life so that he wouldn't be carried away. Severus sighed, resolved to try again.

"Do you really think I don't love you?" Harry's breath hitched and he nodded. "Why not?"

"You can't," Harry replied, broken. "You've hated me for so long, perhaps you can tolerate me, perhaps you can use me, you can't love me." Severus snorted quietly.

"My whole life has been a sacrifice for you," Severus said sadly. "If you can't see that, I don't know what I can do to prove it."

"You're a liar," Harry continued. "Your whole life you've spent it lying. A spy is just a professional liar."

"I can't deny that," Severus said. "But the difference between a liar and a madman is that the liar still knows the truth."

"Leave me alone," Harry sobbed anew, but he clung closer, if it were possible. Mixed signals much? Severus thought.

"Shh, everything will be alright," Severus whispered. Harry began to calm down. His breathing evened, but his grip didn't loosen.

"Is he really dead?" Harry finally asked.

"Your godfather may not know what he's talking about, most of the time, but when he says that your uncle is dead, then yes, it is true."

"I - I never wanted that."

"No one said you did. If he was willing to abuse one person, he would be willing to do it to someone else. Now he can't. You can live in the peace that it is impossible for him to ever hurt you again." Harry released Severus' robes and stood up. His expression was unreadable, even for Severus.

"Let's go destroy that horcrux," Harry said quietly.

"Despite what Black says, I'll never use you," Severus said equally quietly.

"You already have," Harry accused as he spun on his heel and stalked back to the campsite. Severus sighed and followed.

.oO-Oo.

Severus followed Harry back to the clearing, where he saw Harry guardedly watching Black. It was clear the two hadn't spoken. It was also clear that Harry was very unhappy with his godfather. Severus had to walk past Black in order to get to Harry. He walked a little closer than necessary, just close enough to mutter so that Black could hear.

"Thank you for making my job so much easier," he whispered. His voice dripped disdain. Severus didn't doubt Black's good intentions, that Black truly did want to help the boy. But good intentions paved the way to hell. He didn't need the interference. Black didn't respond, but glared at him. Severus sneered in response, and continued to his destination. Harry didn't back away, but his eyes fell.

The boy seemed to know that he had said too much, and expected consequences. Well, Severus certainly wasn't happy with the situation but he wasn't going to address anything in front of Black. Last time he tried that tactic the poor boy ran away to be away from both of them.

Severus pulled the horcrux from a pocket within his robes and dangled it in Harry's view. Harry looked at the piece of gleaming metal, and his eyes wandered questioningly to Severus' face.

"Shall we destroy it?" Severus asked. He wanted Harry to know that nothing had changed because of the boy's outburst. He wanted Harry to know that he was still the same as ever, and their mission hadn't changed.

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, his eyes falling again. "Sorry, sir." Severus hissed at the apology.

"We'll speak of it later," he grumbled quietly. "In the meantime," he continued, more clearly, "we can destroy this." At that, Severus pulled a fang from another pocket. Laying the locket on the ground and kneeling beside it, Severus raised the fang. "Harry, your hand," Severus said. Harry extended his hand over Severus', so that the two of them, together could claim responsibility for one less of Voldemort's horcruxes. Severus brought the fang down on the locket, and it bounced off the surface. Severus dropped the fang in disbelief.

"I'm guessing that wasn't supposed to happen," Harry said.

"No," Severus said, shocked and puzzled. Quickly, Severus picked up the locket. It clearly wasn't a horcrux. Any horcrux would have bled and fought when attacked with a Basilisk fang. This was clearly just a locket. He opened it. A small paper fell out. Severus opened the paper. There was writing on it.

"'To the Dark Lord,'" Severus read aloud, "'I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more. R.A.B.'"

"R.A.B.?" Black suddenly asked. "Let me see that." Black grabbed the slip of paper from Severus' hands. Severus didn't try to stop him, so shocked was he.

"Who's R.A.B?" Harry demanded.

"Regulus, you cunning bastard," Severus said, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"He repented?" Black asked, amazed as he glanced up from the note to Severus. "My brother, Regulus Arcturus Black, tried to bring down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? My brother, the death eater? My brother, the child who could do no wrong? My brother, the purist, the one who never broke my mother's heart?"

Severus continued to laugh at the revelation, quietly, to himself, as Black asked no one in particular these questions.

"Regulus, I never knew you had it in you," Severus said, seeming to direct his comment to the locket. "It would seem so," Severus then said, answering Black's rhetorical questions. "It would do not to judge someone too quickly based on past actions. Sometimes you find you don't even know your own family's actions, beliefs and motivations, much less those of a life long enemy." Black nodded, as Severus rose to his feet. "This, I believe, belongs to you." Severus handed the locket to Black. "Be it a memento, a reminder, that people change." Severus gave Black a pointed look, as he accepted the locket.

"So," Harry said, breaking the silence, "what just happened?"

"We don't have a horcrux," Severus said, "but I believe we have peace." Black nodded his assent.

.oO-Oo.

Harry inwardly huffed. Whatever that meant. He was frustrated and hurt right now, not a good combination. Somehow, he thought that this particular combination might be the majority of his life. Harry was upset with Sirius for having interfered. He was relieved, yet disturbed, that his uncle was dead. And Snape, he wasn't ready to think about Snape.

"Regulus likely brought the real locket back to Grimmauld Place," Snape said. "As the house is now yours, the horcrux is also yours. I trust you have enough honor to try to regain said object so your godson and I can destroy it?"

"Of course," Sirius said, sounding shocked and slightly confused. "I'm sure that little nuisance house elf will know something."

"Be kind to him, please," Harry interjected. Sirius paused, but didn't acknowledge the request.

"Harry and I have somewhere else to go, Black," Snape continued. "I believe you can get back to where you need to be without my help?" Snape's voice had lost its usual hostility, Harry noticed.

"Yes, of course," Sirius replied, clenching the locket in his fist. He disapperated with a loud snap. Snape turned to Harry. Now Harry stepped back fearfully.

"Sorry, sir, I'm sorry," Harry began mumbling quickly. Snape didn't acknowledge him except to step closer. Finally Harry's back made contact with a tree. "I'm sorry!" Harry said, much louder, as Snape was nearing. "Please don't hurt me." Harry sunk to the ground in despair, and covered his face with his hands. "Please, please, no." Snape crouched down across from Harry and reached out to the unsuspecting boy. Harry flinched as soon as Snape's hand made contact with his hair. He began to shake uncontrollably, out of fear, he knew.

"I will never hurt you," Snape said gently. "I will never use you." There was silence for a few moments. Then Severus asked, "When do you think I did?"

"That night," Harry choked out, bringing his hands away from his face. "The night Vold- I mean, the Dark Lord fell. You knew I would come, you knew I would try to save you. You couldn't know that I would beat him. But you could know that it wouldn't happen to you if I - "

"Harry, it was nothing like that!" Snape cut him off. "Did this even occur to you before your idiot godfather put that idea in your head?"

"No, sir," Harry admitted.

"Then perhaps you should just put that idea back where it came from," Snape advised. "On to our destination?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered and nodded. Even if Snape could assure him that he wasn't being used, once it had been suggested, Harry had a difficult time not letting a little shadow of doubt gnaw at the corner of his mind. What Snape did for him was out of obligation, so why shouldn't Snape get something out of it too? Snape held out his arm, and Harry accepted it, as they disapparated.

.oO-Oo.

Harry found himself outside a tumble down shack, if such a word was sufficiently insulting for the remnants of the building. He gave Snape a questioning look as he let go and stepped away from the man. Snape looked at him oddly. Harry would have thought it was concern if he hadn't known better.

"Why are we here?" Harry asked.

"This was the house where the Dark Lord's mother lived," Snape explained as he began to approach the house. "His father, Tom Riddle Sr., lived up there, in that house," he continued, pointing up a hill to a mansion silhouetted in the distance.

"Oh," Harry said.

"I thought, perhaps, we could find something here," Snape continued as he pushed the loose, creaky door open. Harry nodded, but Snape didn't turn around to see. He followed his professor into the dark, dank building. Snape drew his wand at lit a lumos charm, filling the room with light. Harry looked around at the disarray and mess surrounding him. "The Gaunts were the only living descendants of Slytherin," Snape continued. "It's only natural, with the pride they had in this fact, that they may have had something of Slytherin's. The Dark Lord would have greatly desired to make that object into one of his horcruxes."

"I see," Harry said. "So we're guessing."

"Basically," Snape relied, as he began to search the house. Harry let him do what he would, but didn't help. He didn't want to interfere with anything the man had planned, if the man had anything planned.

"Ha, I found it!" Snape suddenly exclaimed. He showed his findings to Harry. In Snape's palm was a black ring. It seemed to hum with an unpleasant energy.

"That's a horcrux?" Harry asked.

"I'm certain of it," Snape replied. "That and more. We can destroy it now." Once again, Snape pulled out his Basilisk fang, and they repeated the same ceremony. Harry placed his hand on top of Snape's and together they brought the fang down on the ring. A wail filled the room, and Harry covered his ears as he grimaced. Snape didn't react, and Harry wondered if he couldn't hear it.

"The sound of victory," Snape intoned once the wail had died. "With one horcrux destroyed, we're that much closer to safety." A smile of relief crossed Snape's features. "It's time to return to Hogwarts," he continued. "I thank you for accompanying me." Harry's throat felt too tight to speak, so he simply nodded, and accepted the arm offered to him, as they disapparated with a loud crack.


	15. The Scales of Justice

Harry walked up the stairs to the dormitory. It was late and he was tired. He was still upset over what had happened that day, with Sirius and Snape, but he would just have to live with it. They had one horcrux destroyed, and four more to go. Then Voldemort would be dead, and he would be free of the lunatic who had hunted him since his first birthday. And Snape would be free too. Harry could understand how terrible the feeling was for Snape that someday Voldemort might come back.

His uncle was dead! Harry could hardly believe it. He was relieved beyond words at this news. What would happen to Aunt Petunia and Dudley now? Well, it wasn't like they'd ever worried about him, Harry shrugged. If they had worried, maybe they could have figured out what was happening. Maybe they had, he suddenly realized. Maybe they had seen the way his uncle looked at him, and the way he shrunk away, and maybe they hadn't cared. The thought felt like a stone in his stomach.

The only person who cared was Snape. Well, that wasn't quite true either. Sirius had gone to the trouble of killing his uncle, hadn't he? For that, Harry was very grateful to his godfather. And apparently Sirius didn't hate him. Harry was both impressed and relieved at that as well. Maybe the man still loved him too. Harry could understand if Sirius didn't though. He did understand that Snape didn't. What Snape did, he did out of duty. What Snape did, he did for the good of wizards in general, not for Harry. He really didn't mind though. Snape was still good to him, even if it wasn't for his own sake.

Harry smiled wanly as he opened the door to the dormitory. At some level, he realized, he was fond of Snape. It was difficult to not feel a certain loyalty to Snape. After all, the man had been his immediate savior from a desperate situation. Snape kept him sane and healthy too, Harry realized. It wasn't that Snape had saved him and abandoned him. Snape continued to look after him, saw to it that he ate a sufficient amount and actually offered him comfort through flashbacks and panic attacks.

Like he told Sirius, he knew Snape didn't love him, but it was nice to pretend. Harry sighed as he closed the door silently behind him.

"Hey, mate," Ron called softly. Harry jumped.

"Hey," Harry whispered back.

"That took you all day," Ron commented, careful not to wake the others who seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

"Yeah, sorry," Harry apologized.

"What happened?"

"Well, we got one," Harry said.

"One of the horcruxes?" Ron asked. "Did you destroy it?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "One less piece of him we have to worry about."

"Good," Ron said.

"And we have a lead on another one too."

"Excellent!" Ron said. "How are you doing? You look tired."

"I'm fine," Harry said.

"Mmm," Ron acknowledged. "Something happened."

"Sirius dropped by," Harry shrugged.

"And how did that sit with Snape?" Ron asked, suddenly interested.

"It was...eventful. They seem to have settled whatever the problem was though," Harry concluded. "My - uncle - Sirius said he killed him."

"Oh," Ron said, unsure how to react. "That's a good thing, right?"

"I think so," Harry said, puzzled. "Is it right that I should be happy he's dead?" Harry slumped down on his bed, let his bag slide to the floor with a quiet thump, and buried his face in his hands. "I just don't know, Ron," Harry muttered.

"It's okay," Ron said, not daring to touch his friend. "It's just a fact. You don't have to be happy or not happy. You can accept it."

"Yeah," Harry said, beginning to unbutton his shirt a bit. It was dark; Ron couldn't see his scars. "Good night."

"Night, Harry."

.oO-Oo.

"I don't care if he's dead!" Bellatrix screamed manically. "He came back once, he can come back again. He has horcruxes." There was a gasp among her audience. "Oh, you didn't know? Well at least the intelligent ones among you suspected. How else can someone come back from the dead?"

"But he came back once," Lucius began. "That means he's used his horcrux."

"One, yes," Bellatrix said, and the room became absolutely silent.

"You mean he has more?" Nott murmured.

"This is the Dark Lord of whom we speak," Bellatrix reminded them. "Those who were close to him even know certain ones. Nagini," Bellatrix called as she crouched low to the ground. The serpent wound her way to Bellatrix.

"In a living animal?" Lucius questioned, puzzled. "But that's extremely dangerous."

"I'm sure the Dark Lord knew what he was doing," Bellatrix said coldly. "I don't believe you have ever made even one horcrux, Lucius?"

"Absolutely not!" Lucius exclaimed. "I fancy the dark arts, yes, but not that."

"I can take the horcrux from Nagini and place it into someone," Bellatrix continued. "Are there any volunteers?" Everyone looked around hesitantly.

"How about that traitor, Snape?" Avery suggested hopefully. "He was the last one of us to see the Dark Lord alive."

"The host must consent," Bellatrix said.

"Does duress qualify?" Lucius suggested.

"Absolutely," Bellatrix purred.

"Rumor has it Snape has adopted the Potter boy," Lucius continued. "If he has, in fact, conducted an adoption, no matter how he has hated the boy in the past, the magic will see to it he has a fatherly affection now. He will do anything to save his son."

"So you suggest we hold Potter hostage to convince Snape to be the Dark Lord's host?" Bellatrix licked her lips anxiously. "A very interesting idea, Lucius. A very interesting idea. The only hole is that we've been trying to get our hands on Potter for years. That's the only hole, the crux of the plan." She was sneering by the end.

"We've never had Sirius Black in our midst before," Lucius pointed out, and one of the men in the back pulled back his hood. Bellatrix began to laugh manically.

"Sirius Black, Sirius Black!" she sang out in a mocking tone. "Finally come to please your old dead mother?" She put on an exaggerated pouting face and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye, before returning to the look that would have made almost anyone lock her up in the insane asylum.

"I'm not sure anymore, Malfoy," Sirius growled at the blond man.

"Too late," Lucius said. "You started a ball rolling when you walked in and called Snape out for who he was. You can't turn back, not now." Sirius looked slightly panicked.

"I don't want to do this!" he said. "Can't we just go back to the way things were?"

"Well," Bellatrix threatened softly, "we could always kill the Potter boy outright. I mean, we were planning on keeping him alive for the Dark Lord, but we could just kill him ourselves. We would make sure he had a long proper death. The Dark Lord would likely kill him without ceremony."

"Last time he tried that, it didn't go so well," Sirius taunted back.

"And he doesn't make the same mistake twice," Bellatrix contradicted.

"How do you propose to get at the boy if I refuse to cooperate?" Sirius pressed.

"I'm sure Potter would be more than happy to exchange his life for yours, wouldn't he?" Bellatrix said sweetly as she stepped closer to Sirius.

"Harry wouldn't be that stupid," he said between gritted teeth, though he knew it to be untrue. Harry wasn't in Gryffindor for no reason. Bellatrix laughed. She might not be a skilled legillimens, but one didn't have to be in order to see that Sirius didn't believe his own words. Snape would just have to protect Harry, Sirius realized. He wasn't going to turn the boy over, not yet. That afternoon had made him at least question his opposition to Snape. Okay, he still didn't trust the man, not by a long shot. He still wanted to look after Harry himself. But maybe, in some twisted way, Snape did care for Harry. Sirius couldn't imagine why. He hoped Snape wouldn't be bad for the boy in the meantime, if he got out of this mess alive. First he failed to protect James and Lily, and now he was failing to protect their son. One time, he was protecting them from Snape, now this time he was praying that Snape would help him protect Harry. How odd fate was sometimes.

"So will you hand him over to us?" Bellatrix prompted when Sirius failed to elaborate on his previous comment.

"No," Sirius said after a deep breath. "I won't help you, not anymore." He turned on his heel, intending to leave. At least, intending to make an attempt. As he expected, he was assaulted by a group of Death Eaters. Wand drawn, he hexed them back, but one against a dozen wasn't a fair fight no matter how good a fighter Sirius had become. His assailants took him down, and disarmed him easily enough.

"You could have done this the easy way," Bellatrix continued, playing with his wand. "But since when has Sirius Black ever done anything the easy way?" She laughed.

.oO-Oo.

A small package fell in front of Harry next morning at breakfast. He was confused. Who would be sending him a package? It wasn't Christmas, and it certainly wasn't his birthday. Ron and Hermione were sitting with him. They wouldn't have needed to send him anything. Perhaps Snape? But then he could have easily handed out a detention and given him the thing then. Shrugging, Harry opened it. There was a bottle with a cloudy liquid inside. Harry knew it to be a memory. He opened the paper that came with it.

Mr. Potter,

You are being informed that the Death Eaters have your godfather, Sirius Black. The memory is proof. Surrender yourself and your wand, and we will set Black free, on our honor. In all honesty, we can't care less about him. For this reason you have 24 hours to meet us just outside the school wards or we will kill your godfather, no questions asked. Someone will be waiting for you. Don't bring anyone with you. No need to reply.

Lucius Malfoy

Harry's lips became a hard line as he read the note. He wanted to view the memory just to be sure it wasn't a bluff. There wasn't any choice though, if it weren't. He couldn't let them kill Sirius. Voldemort was dead; he had completed his mission. Snape could hunt horcruxes without him. Then Snape wouldn't have to be burdened with him anymore.

"What's that, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Just something from Snape," Harry lied. "I'll be right back." Harry quickly got up and left the Great Hall. A certain potions master saw his son's hasty retreat and followed. Just outside the doors of the Great Hall, Snape intercepted Harry.

"What is it you have there?" Snape asked. Always direct and to the point.

"Oh, this?" Harry said innocently, holding up the memory and the folded slip of paper. "It's just something from one of the girls from the French school," he explained. Snape gave him a skeptical look. "Really!" Harry said. Then he looked at the floor and mumbled, "Look, I like her, kind of. She sent me a memory from her birthday party." Snape still looked skeptical but stepped aside to let him pass.

"And how were you planning to view this memory?" Snape inquired.

"In...in your pensieve?" Harry asked rather than stated. Snape gave one curt nod.

"Alright," Snape agreed reluctantly. "I expect you to eat more for your midday meal though."

"Yes, sir," Harry said readily. At the rate things were going, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't have a midday meal. He might even be dead by lunch time. It was a sobering thought. Quickly, Harry shuffled away from Snape and walked to the man's office where he found the pensieve. Harry poured the memory and dived in.

He saw a perfectly intact, unaltered memory of Sirius' capture. They tied him to a chair, and Belltrix was reiterating the ultimatum as she poked his godfather with a knife. The memory was short. Apparently the Death Eaters didn't want to mess around with a longer than necessary memory. When it ended, Harry was transported out of the pensieve. His face grim, Harry suddenly realized he didn't know how to take a memory out of the basin.

"Accio memory," he murmured, and it worked. The silvery thread wound itself back into the bottle. There. Snape couldn't view the memory. Snape wouldn't know what had happened. Snape wouldn't have to worry. Stuffing both memory and bottle into his pocket, Harry used one of the secret passages out of the school to get to the grounds. He might as well get this over as soon as possible, he reasoned.

The moment he was past the wards, Harry reached for his wand and threw it on the ground and put his hands behind his head. He knelt on the ground. Harry didn't want there to be any accusation that he didn't follow the terms and conditions. After a moment Harry wondered what had happened. No one was coming. Then there was a soft rustling in the bushes, and a masked and hooded Death Eater stepped out, grabbing Harry by the arm. Harry shivered at the touch, but didn't fight.

"Is Sirius alright?" he asked the hooded figure.

"Alive," the man replied. "Silence. No more questions." The Death Eater summoned Harry's wand and pocketed it. The the two of them disapparated. Harry had no idea where they were, except the building was large. A manor of some sort. Perhaps Malfoy manor? Harry didn't know. He didn't really care either. He was a dead man, he knew. The thought scared Harry, of course, the thought of dying, but it was a relief too. The pain would end.

At the other end of the room, Harry saw Sirius tied to a chair, undoubtedly supported with magical bonds as well.

"Let him go now," Harry began pleading. "You promised, if I came, alone and unarmed, you'd let him go, you promised."

"Yes, of course," the Death Eater replied. He took out his own wand and released Sirius. Sirius rushed over to his godson.

"Harry, Harry," he began, "what are you doing? You shouldn't have come. It's a trap."

"I know," Harry replied, not able to look Sirius in the eyes. "I couldn't let them kill you. Go."

"You don't understand," Sirius tried again. "They're not just trying to get you."

"That's enough," the Death Eater interrupted. "Unless you want to be silenced permanently."

"It's fine," Harry assured his godfather sadly. "I don't mind."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Sirius said. Harry looked up. The note of sorrow in Sirius' voice was alarming. "It's all my fault, Harry, I was trying to protect you. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Harry said again. "It's probably better this way. Like you said, Snape doesn't love me."

"He does, Harry," Sirius contradicted. "In some way, he does." Harry shook his head sadly.

"He doesn't, he can't. Bye." Harry embraced his godfather fiercely.

"Good-bye, Harry," Sirius said, unable to voice any of this other thoughts. After a moment, the Death Eater grabbed Harry by back of his shirt and broke the moment.

"Leave now," he told Sirius. "You have 10 minutes, or our bargain is off."

"Harry," Sirius tried one last time.

"Go!" Harry insisted, in such a tone that Sirius wouldn't want to respect Harry's last wish. With a nod, Sirius turn and ran. Harry turned to the Death Eater and realized the helplessness of his situation. They could literally do anything they wanted to him and he didn't have the power to stop them. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself protectively. The silence was deafening.

Momentarily, Bellatrix and the others came in. Harry backed away from all of them. There were no dementors, but it still felt like the temperature in the room dropped.

"Please just kill me," he whimpered. "It'll make it easier on everyone." Harry's eyes darted from one face to another. Some he recognized, others he didn't.

"It seems like it's time to contact Severus," Bellatrix told Lucius.

"What?" Harry asked, his face blank. "Leave Snape out of this! Just kill me."

"Tut, tut," Bellatrix said, coming over to Harry. He backed away further until his back was to the wall. "Snape is the reason we wanted you. We have no intention of killing you, at least not yet, and certainly not quickly. That is the Dark Lord's prerogative. He has reserved you for himself."

"Voldemort is dead!" Harry screamed. Several of the Death Eaters hissed angrily as pain shot up their arms.

"We will bring him back," Bellatrix said, grabbing Harry by the throat and holding him against the wall. Harry whimpered. He was remembering the graveyard, not even a year ago. Harry wasn't stupid and he knew begging wouldn't get him anywhere with Bellatrix. Still, he had to try.

"Why do you need Snape then? Just use my blood like last time and kill me. Leave Snape alone."

"Ignorant, silly little boy," Bellatrix spat as her grip tightened on Harry's throat and she brought him up to eye level. Harry's toes just barely brushed the hard stone floor. "I don't have to justify my actions to you. Need I remind you of how powerless you are?" She tightened her grip again as if for emphasis. Harry began to fight for air and pulled at her hand, his eyes wide with fear.

"Please," he mouthed to her, tears beginning to form in eyes, whether from fear or lack of air, he didn't know. She suddenly released him and he fell to a crumpled ball on the floor, gasping for air.

"You'll do as you're told, no questions," Bellatrix said coldly. Harry nodded, massaging his bruised throat. She pulled out a knife and quickly knelt beside Harry who froze, terrified. She grabbed Harry by his unruly mop and cut a tuft of it. Getting up she handed it to Lucius.

"Owl Severus," she ordered. "That should be proof enough we have his son. He'll come running, you can be sure of that." She smiled cruelly at Harry.


	16. Long Live the Dark Lord

Severus had been teaching all morning, and was in his usual huffy mood when he came to the Great Hall for a much needed meal. He sat down tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose as the house elves popped a plate of food at his spot.

"An owl arrived for you," Dumbledore said to Severus.

"Oh?" Severus replied.

"Yes, here's the letter," Dumbledore said handing the roll of parchment to Severus. "I don't believe our Defense teacher has read it. There seems to be some sort of a particularly strong charm on it, so that no one but you can read it."

"Why thank you, Albus," Severus said between bites of food. After wiping his fingers on his napkin, he opened the roll of parchment and began to read it.

Severus Snape,

We have your son. Meet us at Malfoy Manor before sunset or we promise he won't be nearly as safe as he is now.

The Dark Lord has fallen, long live the Dark Lord.

Severus' face paled several shades of white, which in itself was a terrible feat, seeing as he was always pale. He found he couldn't even process a coherent thought at the moment.

"Is something wrong, Severus?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Everything is...fine," Severus replied, though his tone belied his words. "I need to go, Headmaster. See to it my afternoon classes are canceled. I'm sure the students would be pleased."

"Severus, what's wrong?" Dumbledore replied, sounding rather alarmed.

"Just some business that needs to be taken care of," Severus replied, close to panicking himself. "Don't worry yourself about it."

"Severus!" Dumbledore tried for a third time. His spy looked at him, blinking. Something that Severus would never do. "I have a right to know!" Severus tossed the parchment on the table, and walked off as means of explanation.

After glancing over the brief contents of the letter, Dumbledore followed Severus out of the Great Hall.

"You can't go, Severus," Dumbledore called after him.

"I can and I will," Severus said, determined. "They're just using him to get to me. They know I'm a spy, Albus. I can run and save myself, and leave Harry, or I can make my death mean something. Albus, the boy has been through more than any living person should ever have to face. I can't abandon him." Severus pulled a cloak over his shoulders. "Let me do this."

"Severus," Albus pleaded. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am," Severus said. "I'll likely not come back. Thank you for everything. My regrets to the others."

"Good-bye, Severus," Dumbledore whispered as he pulled the younger man into an embrace. "You've always been like a son to me, and Harry a grandson. I can't choose between you. If you're sure." Severus quickly returned the older man's embrace and nodded, but his throat was too tight for him to want to trust his voice. And he didn't know what to say to that. So he nodded and turned without a further word.

.oO-Oo.

Severus knocked at the front door of Malfoy Manor. The wards were set to allow him in. He was, of course, a Death Eater still. He bore the Mark. His heart thumped hard enough in his chest, Severus feared that anyone could hear it. Scared didn't even begin to describe how he felt. He was terrified, but he wanted Harry safe more than he feared his comrades. The door swung open after a moment, and Lucius Malfoy stood there.

"Severus," he said coldly, "we've been expecting you."

"Lucius," Severus replied equally coldly, "let the boy go. I'm here, you have me."

"Come with me," Lucius instructed as he turned and gestured for Severus to walk in front. Lucius closed the door behind them.

"Where is Harry?" Severus inquired. "I want to see him."

"I'm taking you to him," Lucius said for explanation. Malfoy Manor was huge. By following instructions, Severus lead the way to its lower levels. After descending a flight of stairs, Severus heard a familiar noise. All dignity aside, and without a thought to his own safety, Severus rushed to where he heard Harry softly crying.

Severus found the boy huddled in the back corner of one of Lucius' holding cells. Harry was sobbing softly, not seeking attention, though Severus still heard it clearly.

"Harry," he said, kneeling next to the iron bars.

"I'm sorry!" Harry sobbed without looking up. "I'm sorry, I was stupid. It's too late. I just wanted to save Sirius."

"I don't understand a word of what you're saying," Severus said. "Let the boy go!"

"Are you kidding?" Lucius asked. "We never promised that. Potter is the Dark Lord's. We let Black go because he's of no value to us. Why should we have invested the effort into holding him once his purpose to us is done?"

"You wouldn't have gone to all this effort for me if there was nothing I had that you wanted," Severus growled, standing up to face Lucius. "What do you want?"

"We will bring the Dark Lord back," Lucius explained. "And we need you to make that happen." Severus looked uncertain for a moment. He looked at Harry's pitiful form in the corner. Harry had stopped crying, trying to listen.

"And if I help you, you'll let Harry go?" Severus asked.

"If you don't help, I can promise you we won't."

"Then why should I help you? The boy is yours either way. I may as well keep the Dark Lord dead." Lucius looked very annoyed. He pulled his wand lazily and flicked it in Harry's direction.

"Crucio," he intoned.

"No, no! Don't!" Severus began pleading. Harry screamed and writhed on the ground. Severus pulled his own wand and cast a shield around Harry, breaking the spell.

"Stop dragging Harry into this!" Severus demanded. "This is between the Death Eaters and me. It doesn't include him!"

"It does, now that you've adopted him," Lucius reminded him. "You wouldn't feel this strongly about him if it weren't for the adoption either. I do believe you opened yourself up for this, Severus. Take a few hours to think it over. You help us, and the Dark Lord gives Potter a quick, easy death, or you refuse, and we'll have our revenge on both of you." Lucius opened Harry's holding cell and motioned Severus inside, but not before muttering a disarming charm. "Can't have you with your wand, now, can we?" Lucius mocked. Then he turned and left. The moment he was gone, Harry came to life.

.oO-Oo.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm so sorry!" Harry wailed, renewing his tears.

"Slow down," Snape instructed calmly, sitting beside the boy. "Start from the beginning. I'm gathering that the letter you got this morning was not from a girl at Beauxbatons?"

"No, sir, I'm sorry," Harry whimpered, calming down some. The mere presence of Snape with him produced a calming effect, even if he knew he had just killed them both.

"Then what was the letter?" Snape pressed.

"It was from them," Harry continued, still sniffling, "They had Sirius. They said they would let him go if I gave myself up."

"And you did, and they did," Snape concluded.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Why didn't you bring it to me?" Snape continued.

"Because - I didn't want you to worry," Harry said lamely.

"And I'm not worried now?" Snape snapped.

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated again burying his face in his hands. "I thought I could deal with it."

"You thought you could come out triumphant against a pack of Death Eaters? Are you insane?"

"No, I thought I could save Sirius."

"You did. What about after that?"

"I thought - I thought - "

"Did you think at all?"

"Yes, sir," Harry stammered. "They would have killed me. That's it."

"That's it?" Snape repeated. "That's it?"

"Yes, sir. The pain would stop. You wouldn't have to worry about me. And I wouldn't have been selfish." Harry pressed the palms of his hands to the sides of his head. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Harry," Snape whispered as he put his arm around the boy. "I would have done everything in my power to save Black, if only for you." Harry nodded, but refused to look at Snape. He couldn't look at the man he'd condemned.

"I never meant this to happen," Harry muttered. "I wanted both of you safe."

"I know," Snape replied quietly as he gave Harry what he thought was a comforting squeeze.

"I just wanted my death to mean something," Harry continued. Snape paused.

"As did I," he murmured, still cradling Harry close.

.oO-Oo.

Severus grew quiet, unsure what to say or do. He had only a short period of time in order to determine what he was going to do. His options were as follows, he figured. Whatever it was the Death Eaters were planning, they seemed to need him, and to need his cooperation. Or at least they preferred him. It was possible that they could still go through with bringing the Dark Lord back without him.

So he could refuse to cooperate with the Death Eaters, and watch them slowly torture and kill Harry, followed by himself, not even ensuring that the Dark Lord wouldn't come back. If he could have that assurance, then maybe it would be worth it, two lives for the world. No matter how much it would tear him apart to see Harry mauled ruthlessly, he had to concede it would be two miserable lives, two lives so scarred from life that death would be welcome. But he couldn't have that assurance. He could go through with that plan only to still have all of England, all of the world, under the Dark Lord's rule, and both their deaths, all the suffering, would be meaningless.

His other option would be to cooperate, and simply bring the Dark Lord back, however that would work. Severus doubted that whatever the Death Eaters had planned wouldn't work. They wouldn't have gone to such great lengths to get him involved if there was a chance it wouldn't work. Like Lucius had said, the Dark Lord would at least give Harry an easy death. Severus knew he would simply become the Dark Lord's toy again, but he didn't see any other choice, not if the Dark Lord could be brought back even if he refused.

What was there anything to lose really? If his supposition was right, then either way would result in the Dark Lord's third rise to power. One way included more pain to Harry, and the other less. Severus didn't think there was much he could, not now.

He wished Harry had trusted him enough to tell him what was going on in the first place. Sure, he hadn't believed the boy when he'd told him about this girl in Beauxbatons, but he also hadn't thought it serious enough that he had to call the boy on the lie that moment. He had planned to address it later, maybe even the next day. Harry had been too peaceful about the lie for it to have been serious. Ah, but he should have known, Harry had already given him enough signs that he would welcome death with open arms. This was equally his fault as it was Harry's.

Harry was still leaning against him, as they sat together on the damp stone floor. They both had fallen silent long ago. As Severus craned his neck to look at the boy, he saw Harry had fallen asleep against him. He looked unhappy, yes, but not uncomfortable. Severus wasn't about to wake him. This might be the last time the two of them had any time alone, perhaps the last time Harry would be able to sleep peacefully. Severus didn't want their last moments together to be marred by Harry's fretting and apologizing, as he was sure the boy would do.

Suddenly Severus realized Lucius was calling his name. Apparently he also had begun to doze.

"Severus, your decision," Lucius demanded. His voice seemed loud in comparison to the silence they had had for hours. Harry stirred in his arms, but didn't wake, at least not yet.

"Shh," Severus cautioned, glancing at Harry. "What is your plan to bring the Dark Lord back?" That was the easiest way of determining both the viability of their plan, and how easily they could make it work without him.

"I assume you understand how a horcrux works?" Lucius began, quieter.

"Of course," Severus replied.

"The Dark Lord has several," he continued. Well, if Lucius expected a shocked reaction, he didn't get one. So he continued, "Nagini is one. We plan on transferring that part of his soul into someone."

"And why do you need me for this?"

"You seemed like the most logical choice," Lucius said casually. "That way, he doesn't lose any of his loyal followers."

"And you need my consent," Severus concluded, "which is why you've gone to these great lengths to convince me."

"Exactly," Lucius agreed. So they could choose another to take his place if he refused. As he thought, there would be no purpose in refusing, since either way the Dark Lord would come back. It came as a surprise to him though, that he would be the Dark Lord. Possession, basically. Was it any worse if the Dark Lord used him over someone else? The Dark Lord had already used him for years. Severus felt a deep sadness overtake him, knowing his life wouldn't end. He would be conscious, in some corner of his mind, aware of what was happening, what he was doing, what the Dark Lord was doing, yet unable to do anything about it.

Dumbledore was a smart man. He would be able to see the change immediately. There was no way Dumbledore would let the Dark Lord into the school. The students would be safe, at least as safe as they could be with the Dark Lord risen again.

"So, your decision?" Lucius asked again.

"Yes," Severus replied, almost too quiet for Lucius to hear, dejected, as he looked at Harry.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Lucius requested. Severus knew Lucius had heard and was simply taunting him.

"Yes," he growled, frustrated and angry. "I'll do what you want, just leave Harry be!" Severus felt his throat tighten and his eyes burn. He was terrified, to be honest with himself. The situation was out of his control, had been from the moment Harry had turned himself over.

"Then do let us begin," Lucius said, unlocking the door with a quiet click. Severus shook Harry gently to wake him. If he was going to be possessed, he wanted to see the boy awake one last time.

"Harry," he called softly. Lucius seemed to know what he was doing and wasn't stopping him. The man had a son himself, perhaps he was realizing how important this was.

"Hmm?" Harry replied still half asleep.

"Harry, I've agreed to work with them," Severus tried to explain. "To save you a long and painful death." Harry nodded, fully awake. "The Dark Lord will come back no matter what I choose. He will be taking over my body for his own."

"Alright," Harry said non-committally. Severus didn't think Harry fully understood the impact of his words.

"When you see me again, I won't be me," he explained, holding Harry's chin in place, forcing Harry to look at him so that he could see Harry's eyes, his green eyes, Lily's eyes. Harry nodded. "Oh, Harry," Severus said, pulling the boy close, as he pressed Harry's head near his own, so he could whisper in his ear, "I love you."

He'd never told Harry, and he knew it. He'd heard the boy declare that he didn't believe that he loved him. It was only fitting if his last sentence was to finally tell Harry this. Almost sharply, Severus released Harry and stood up. He felt that Harry had gripped his robes with all the strength the boy had. Severus supposed it was understandable that Harry didn't want to let him go. Without looking back, without waiting for the reply which he knew would only break his heart, he turned and stepped out of the holding cell, which Lucius closed behind him.

"Long live the Dark Lord," Lucius declared.


	17. When Death Hands You Lemons

Severus followed Lucius out of the dungeons in Malfoy Manor. He wished there were another way out of this horrible situation. If he were the only person he had to consider in this equation of life and death, he would rather die than know that his body would be used for who knew what horrors.

Lucius let him to a large atrium, where the other Death Eaters stood in a semi-circle. Torches burned behind them, casting eerie shadows. Lucius gestured for Severus to stand at the focus of the hyperbola, and pressed on his shoulder. Severus knelt, hanging his head and palms out, as a sign of his good will. His breathing quickened, becoming shallow, and Severus had to internally calm himself before he hyperventilated.

Nagini slithered from the shadows behind the Death Eaters and seemed to inspect him with a critical eye. Severus wanted to back away. He found the snake intimidating, from the first time he saw her, and she was only that much greater a threat to him now.

"Is there any other way?" Severus pleaded, as he searched Bellatrix's face. She shook her head, and Severus allowed his eyes to wander back to Nagini.

"Then let us begin!" she cried, raising a knife above her head. Severus instinctively cringed away.

.oO-Oo.

"Damn, damn, damn, and damn," Sirius hissed as he finally found a way into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What he wanted to go to hell Sirius wasn't quite sure. The Death Eaters would be a good start though. Dumbledore would be another good choice. He'd changed the wards around the school, and Sirius had taken hours trying to find a way through them. But at last he'd found a way, and quietly, he changed into his animagus form, as to be less recognizable.

Stealthily, he made his way through the school hallways he knew so well from his own childhood. He would have liked to see Dumbledore and tear the man apart, but he couldn't exactly bark the password out, and even if he became human again, momentarily, he also didn't know the password.

His former head of house would do nicely. McGonnagall would help. She always did. She was an order member, and if he remembered correctly, she and Snape also had something of a close friendship, not to mention she was also Harry's head of house. She was the perfect choice, connected to everyone involved. He sneaked to her office and pushed the door open with his nose and awaited her return from the Great Hall.

A few minutes later, Sirius was not disappointed. Minerva pushed her door open and stepped in. Without looking up, she closed it behind her, and Sirius morphed back into his human form.

"Sirius Black!" Minerva cried when she saw him. "What - ? How - ?"

"It's Harry," Sirius began, and his tone told Minerva just how serious the situation was. "He's in the hands of Death Eaters."

"Albus just told me," she said. "He's planning a rescue mission with Remus and the others from the Order."

"Minerva, Harry gave himself to save me!" Sirius pleaded. "I need to be involved in this, but I can't do it alone. Harry needs help now. Not after Dumbledore has managed to contact all his Order members. I need you to help me. They're planning to bring back You-Know-Who and they're going to use Harry as bait for Snape."

"They already have," Minerva replied. "That's how Albus knows."

"Snape's already there?"

"Yes," Minerva assured him. "Albus couldn't stop him."

"Then maybe we're already too late," Sirius said. "But we have to try! He's my godson. I promised James and Lily I would protect him."

"Of course, Sirius," Minerva said quietly. "I have promised to protect him too. And poor Severus. You're right, I can't stand by and see either of them be hurt if I can do something about it. Let's go."

.oO-Oo.

It was an ancient ritual, Severus realized. The spell wasn't even in Latin, but rather Aramaic. Bellatrix held Nagini by the back of her head, and came over to Severus.

"Do you, Severus Snape, consent to be the vessel for the Dark Lord's horcrux?"

"I do," Severus said, still kneeling on the cold stone floor. While muttering more of the spell, Bellatrix took her knife and stabbed Nagini in the skull. The snake thrashed and contracted and then lay still.

A wisp of white then came from Nagini's mouth and coiled its way towards Severus. He looked fearfully at what he knew to be a fraction of the Dark Lord's soul. It waited expectantly in front of his mouth, which he didn't open. He looked towards Bellatrix and the others with disgust.

After a moment, the wisp chose to go up his nose instead. Severus screamed in agony and held his head as though it were ready to fall apart. A minute later, he quieted and looked around. He appeared the same. Nothing had changed. Even his eyes looked the same.

"Bella," he said softly, "of course, Bella." His voice was even the same, but the words seemed unnatural to come from Severus. The spell must have worked. "Thank you for bringing me alive again."

"That is our duty, my Lord," she replied, bowing and backing away slightly.

"I must say," he continued, "an interesting choice of body. How did you manage it?"

"Harry Potter is in the dungeons, my Lord," Lucius replied. "Snape couldn't bare to let his son be tortured and gave himself up to us."

"What a weakness love is," Voldemort commented as he began to inspect his new body. "This man was capable of so much, but his love of the Mudblood, and then her son has been his downfall at every turn." The Death Eaters assented.

Severus was aware of everything that happened, everything that was being said. He could hear the Dark Lord's words, and he could see everything the Dark Lord could see. He simply couldn't control his body. It was like watching a movie, he thought. You could see everything, hear everything, but you couldn't change the outcome of the story.

"Let me see the boy," Voldemort ordered. His followers lead him to Harry. "Be gone, all of you," Voldemort said as soon as Lucius had opened the holding cell. Quietly, they retreated, leaving their master alone with Harry.

Harry looked up and saw the Death Eaters and Snape come down the stairs. What looked like Snape, at least. He held himself tall and proudly, but then, Snape did that too. His eyes were cruel, but then, so were Sanpe's.

"Be gone, all of you," Snape said. Certainly not Snape. Harry had been trying to let it sink in, what Snape had told him, that the next time he saw his guardian, Snape wouldn't be himself. He wasn't sure what that meant, but Harry wasn't stupid, no matter what people said. Something had happened, and it appeared from the way the Death Eaters were behaving that while the man in front of him looked like his potions professor, it most certainly was Voldemort himself.

Harry scrambled to his feet, the better to defend himself, he figured. His breathing was fast, and Snape - no, Voldemort - stepped closer to him, his eyes boring through Harry. Harry knew that gaze, and was terrified.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, his fear apparent in his voice. He backed into the far corner of his cell, still watching Voldemort's every movement.

"We're enemies, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, stopping his advance for a moment. "We have been from the beginning. I'll kill you, yes, but remember, the last time we spoke, you were more than willing to give yourself, wholly, over to me. I'm sure you recall?"

"To save Snape!" Harry replied. Voldemort took a few more steps toward him.

"I intend to take you up on that offer yet," Voldemort whispered, now close enough to touch Harry. He reached out and grabbed Harry by the chin to force the boy to look at his face, Snape's face.

"No, no, don't, please don't!" Harry began to plead. He didn't think he could take it while the man who would hurt him looked like Snape, even if he knew it wasn't. Voldemort simply looked Harry over and began to unbutton the boy's shirt.

"No, stop!" Harry cried out again, struggling against Voldemort. "Don't do it! Stop! You can't do this!" Harry's voice became increasingly panicked as Voldemort continued undressing him. Harry stood shirtless in front of Voldemort, still pleading. "Dear God, this can't be happening," Harry muttered quietly.

"But it is," Voldemort replied, grinning cruelly. He turned Harry so that the boy faced the wall. Harry clung to the ragged stone, because if he didn't, he feared he would collapse. His pulse was faster than he ever remembered it being. His knees were weak and he felt warm. Harry knew he was getting ready to faint, and he was still deciding if he should fight it or not. As if to make the decision for him, Voldemort grabbed him by his mop of hair and held him upright.

"No passing out on me," he hissed quietly in Harry's ear. Harry nodded a few centimeters. Voldemort gave his head a firm shake as if for emphasis. Then he dropped Harry's trousers and pants.

"Please don't," Harry murmured, already knowing his pleas would go unanswered. "I know you're in there, Professor, don't let him do this!"

"Snape can't do a thing to stop me," Voldemort whispered. "Oh, you're right, he's here, buried in the back of my - our? - head, but he can't stop me, no matter how hard he tries." Harry sobbed once, twice, and tried to stop. It wouldn't do to cry now. Snape had done everything he could to try to protect him. It wasn't Snape's fault it wasn't enough. It wasn't Snape's fault he'd been so foolish as to run off to save Sirius without a second thought.

Harry felt familiar pain as Voldemort inserted his fingers. He grimaced and tried to choke back another sob. He rested his feverish forehead against the cool stone and tried to focus on that. Distractions were always good. Distractions were very good. Voldemort's middle finger touched something sensitive and Harry hissed.

"Mmm," Voldemort hummed. "Bet you missed that?" As if to emphasize his question, he continued to prod more pointedly. Harry whimpered pathetically, but didn't know what to do. It was the worst kind of torture possible.

Fine. He'd had it.

"Stop it, stop it!" he cried out between unbridled sobs and whimpers of distress. "I know you can stop it, sir. You're strong, you can stop it. Protect me, Dad!"

Harry felt the presence of Voldemort's fingers recede from him. Quickly, he pulled up his pants and trousers and turned to see what was happening all in one movement. Voldemort blinked at him. His face began to contort in agony, and he fell to the ground, where he began to writhe. It looked like someone had suddenly put him under the Cruciatus but there was no one around. Harry went over to the man and knelt beside him. Then he lay still.

"Professor?" he whispered, barely ready to touch the body. "Sir?" Harry reached out and put his hand on Snape's chest. "Professor?" he tried again. There was no response. "Professor!"

Harry didn't even notice two figures rush down the flight of stairs, one male, one female, both with wands drawn, and stop dead at the sight before them.

"You can't leave me!" Harry screamed as he began to cry. He grabbed Snape's robes and weakly shook them. "You can't die. I need you." Harry laid his head on Snape's robes, trying to comfort himself a little bit. "You can't leave me," he sobbed again. "I love you, Dad, don't leave me." Harry closed his eyes and sobbed quietly over the dead body of his father, unable to accept the fact that he was alone once again.

Minerva and Sirius looked on the scene, not intervening, because they had no words to console Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I have purposely not marked "Major character death" as an archive warning.


	18. Life's Short, Demand Lemonade

Harry clung to Snape's robes as though they were the only thing he could hold onto in the hurricane called life. He lay there for what seemed to him an eternity.

"You think it's that easy to get rid of me?" Snape's voice drawled. Harry's head shot up and his jaw dropped, his tears immediately stopping.

"You're alive!" Harry gasped, relief flooding his voice. "Saints be praised, you're alive! Are you alright?"

"Are you?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Severus, you incorrigible child," a woman's voice rang out. Both turned and saw McGonagall and Sirius standing there.

"What are you doing here?" Snape and Harry both asked at the same time.

"Rescuing you idiots," McGonagall replied, though she smiled widely. Obviously she was pleased beyond measure that Snape was still alive, Harry realized.

"So the other Death Eaters - ?" Harry began.

"Are either dead or otherwise incapacitated until Ministry authorities can get here," McGonagall finished.

"Harry, are you alright?" Sirius asked.

"I - I suppose," Harry stammered, as though he hadn't really considered it.

"You don't sound very confident about that," Sirius pointed out.

"I'm not," Harry whispered, but no one but Snape heard. "Thank you for helping," he continued, louder, hoping to change the subject.

"You're welcome, Harry," McGonagall said. "I think that both of you belong in the infirmary for the rest of the day at least to make sure you're alright."

.oO-Oo.

Poppy actually released both of them a few hours after checking into the infirmary, much to McGonagall's dismay.

"If I didn't know better, Minerva," Snape had said upon release, "I would accuse you of using the infirmary as a kind of detention for both of us."

"Then it's a good thing you know better than to accuse me," McGonagall said, almost smirking. Once McGonagall had left, Harry and Snape were alone outside the hospital doors.

"You should catch up on your classes," Snape advised suddenly. "Here's a note to get you through any difficulties you may have for not being in class." Snape handed him a note, saying that Harry had been absent due to unforeseen events and had been with him, Snape.

"Yeah, I'll go do that," Harry said nervously and darted off. He heard Snape sigh sadly as he left the awkward situation.

"Meet me in my office tonight," Snape called after him. "If I'm not there, just wait in my office for me." Harry glanced over his shoulder and nodded, but didn't reply.

.oO-Oo.

Harry knocked softly on Snape's office door. There wasn't any response, but Harry tried the door and it was open. He slipped inside to wait for Snape as instructed. Admittedly, Harry was quite panicked about what Snape wanted. In some ways the apprehension was worse than when he was out past curfew. The worst Snape would do to him then was beat him. Now, with a few simple sentences, Snape would be able to reject him and that would be so much worse than any beating he'd ever gotten. A fire crackled softly.

Nervous, Harry paced around the room, looking at various jars on Snape's shelves. Some had eyes floating in purple liquid, others held plants in clear liquid. One even had a fish swimming inside a clear yellow liquid.

Bored with examining the potions stocks, Harry went over to Snape's desk. Maybe the last essay he'd written was there and he could look at the grade. Now that he actually tried in potions class, it wasn't so bad. His grades had gone up, but not because of the adoption. Snape didn't grade him any easier. He was simply producing better work. He began sifting through the first few papers on the desk, when he noticed his name appeared in Snape's spidery handwriting. Intrigued, Harry couldn't help himself from reading.

What have I done? What have I done? I thought nothing could be worse than being the Dark Lord's whore, but it can be, it can be so much worse. I should never be forgiven for what I did. I can't be forgiven. Harry didn't deserve any of what he's been through, not ever. I'm so ashamed of myself. I should have been stronger, I should have stopped Harry when I knew he was lying to me, and none of this would have happened.

My hands will never be clean of the evils of today. I can't even look at the boy without waves of guilt washing over me. I promised to protect him, and instead I was the instrument of more abuse. I can count his as the worst day I've ever lived, even worse than the day with Potter and Lily. Both days I destroyed the only good thing in my life. Both days I'll live to regret. Both days I'll work to undo, knowing that that can never happen. The past is the past and nothing can undo it, ever.

I promise Harry will never have to deal with me other than for lessons ever again. I wouldn't want to deal with me either. If the boy can stand the sight of me twice or three times a week in class, he will already have given me more forgiveness than I deserve. I should never have agreed to their plan.

Knowing what I've been through, knowing what Harry has been through, just makes it all the worse. All this experience has taught Harry is that he can't trust anyone, not even the one person who voluntarily took on responsibility for him. How will he ever learn to trust his friends in the future, even a spouse? All I've learned is it's best if I stay away from those I care about.

I vowed I would never care again, and not even two weeks after I break that vow, I'm reminded why I made it in the first place. May the Lord have mercy on my soul, though he knows best why I deserve to rot in hell for eternity. I'm so sorry. I love the boy with my whole being, and the extent I hurt him was the worst.

I wish I had died today. It would have spared me the pain of talking to him. Ah, but that's selfish. I wish I had died today to spare Harry the pain of talking to me. I deserve having to talk to him, but he doesn't deserve having to talk to me, ever again.

I felt the Dark Lord's spirit break when he called me Dad. I was so overwhelmed that he called me that, despite the circumstances, and I love him so much in that moment, that it burned the Dark Lord's soul itself, burned it right out of existence. By proving that I had the power to stop it at that point, I proved that I always had the power to stop him, from the moment the Dark Lord possessed me. In that light, I am just as guilty as if I had chosen to do it of my own accord. I could have stopped it, and I didn't.

Then falling into the coma after, even if for a few minutes, I was sure I would die. How Harry had the strength of character to cry over what he thought was my dead body I will never know.

The writing ended, and Harry noticed there were several formerly wet spots on the paper. Snape must have been crying, Harry realized. The thought of Snape sitting alone in this dark, cold room writing this, crying as he did so, sobered Harry quite a bit. The amount of pain Snape must be in must be enormous, even more than he had endured that day, Harry realized.

The door creaked open, and even though Harry heard it, he didn't react. He just held the paper Snape had written in his hands.

"What are you doing?" Snape hissed behind him, grabbing the paper from him. Harry whirled, horrified, and he felt terrible when he saw his professor's expression. It was a mix of anger and pain.

"I - I'm sorry," Harry stammered. "I didn't mean to - I mean, I just saw my name..."

"You're always sorry!" Snape lashed out, as he sank into his chair behind his desk. Harry backed away, scared of this angry and hurt Snape, unsure where Snape's inhibitions lay once the man had completely lost his temper. "You never mean what you do! You didn't mean it when you fell into the pensieve, you didn't mean what happened this morning, you didn't mean this!" Snape threw the paper on his desk and covered his eyes with his right hand as he leaned back in the chair. He sighed, as Harry stared on, with big, scared eyes.

"I'm sorry," Snape said. "That was uncalled for." Snape didn't even look at him though, Harry noticed. Maybe it was because he couldn't bare to, according to what he'd read.

"It's not true," Harry finally whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Snape asked, now looking directly at Harry.

"This," Harry said, picking up the paper. "This isn't true." Harry tore the paper into fourths as if for emphasis, and threw them in the fire. "It's lies. It wasn't your fault. You did protect me."

"That's not how I see it," Snape replied quietly, unconsciously wiping his hand on his trousers.

"Then you see it wrong," Harry declared. The page had disintegrated to black ash in the fire. Snape stood up and walked to the front of his desk, where he leaned against it, examining his shoes, occasionally risking a glance up at Harry. Snape muttered something, but Harry didn't catch it.

"Sorry, didn't hear you," Harry said, stepping closer.

"I said," Snape repeated, slightly louder, "that I was, at the end of the day, my fault for my poor choices with you." Harry sighed, somewhat annoyed. Snape still didn't look at him. "I wouldn't blame you if you decided that this adoption has caused you so many problems that you will leave. I can't undo the adoption, but I can promise to never see you outside of my role as your teacher." For his answer, Harry took one more step closer, and slowly put his arms around Snape's neck. Harry felt, more than heard, Snape's gasp, and Snape pulled him close.

"I'm sorry," Snape finally said.

"I think there's enough sorry to go around and then some," Harry replied, releasing Snape. "I couldn't have hoped for a better dad." His voice had started out quite serious, but by the time he pronounced the last word, the smirk became apparent. Snape snorted, but didn't argue. "It's true," Harry insisted, suddenly very sincere again. "How many other fathers would have come without a second thought to save me from my own mistakes, then sacrifice everything? You were ready to suffer everything all over again, and you didn't even stop to consider what it would do to you. Then you used the only weapon available to you, love, apparently, to put an end to the whole fiasco. I couldn't ask for more than to be loved."

"Dumbledore would have been proud of that speech, young man," Snape replied.

"Doesn't change anything," Harry continued. "Somehow, you care, enough to have protected me."

"You're my son," Snape sighed. "It's my job to protect you, at the cost of everything. Any father who isn't willing isn't worth being called a father. And as your father, I should be the last person to ever hurt you." Harry suddenly paused.

"This - this isn't some way to get rid of me, is it?" he suddenly asked, backing away, his face darkening with doubt.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, puzzled.

"Pushing me away," Harry explained. "You aren't trying to get rid of me, are you? You're intent on this idea, that I can't have you anymore. Is it because you no longer want me as your son, and it's easiest to maintain that I shouldn't want you as my father?" Harry was beginning to shake a little.

"No, no, no," Snape replied, closing the gap between them, to comfort Harry. It almost felt like it was before, Severus realized. "It's nothing like that. There is nothing wrong with you, and I still want you as my son. It's true, you shouldn't want me as your father, but if that's what you freely choose, then I will be happiest man alive."

"I do, thank you," Harry said. "I wouldn't know what to do without you, now that I've had a father for the first time in my memory. Thank you for not leaving me. Thanks for not dying."

"You're not allowed to die either," Snape quietly reminded him.


	19. I Must Not Tell Lies

I must not tell lies.

Harry bit his lip as, for the hundredth time that evening, the words became etched in his flesh again. He would not give Umbridge the satisfaction of hearing him hiss or whimper. He'd been through worse, and he would bear this like he had everything else. Still, the toad must have seen him bite his lip and blink because suddenly she was smiling at him as the kittens on her sickeningly pink walls continued to tumble over each other.

"Have you learned your lesson now, Mr. Potter?" she said sweetly.

"That I must not tell lies?" Harry questioned. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed on, "I learned that lesson a long time ago." She cleared her throat purposefully.

"I'm sure Madame Pomfrey could give you something for that," Harry then offered, trying to keep the ever growing sense of satisfaction from his voice.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge began, suddenly cold and serious, any pretense of her facade having disappeared with Harry's last smart remark, "it has come to my attention that you are Severus' Snape's ward now."

"Son," Harry corrected, almost proudly.

"Son, then," Umbridge continued. "As one of the few people here whose reputation is almost as bad as my own, I cannot see Professor Snape tolerating such backtalk. I'm sure if I simply had a talk with him, things would become increasingly miserable for you." Harry's face twisted into a grimace.

"Please don't do that," he replied, trying to keep as much dignity in his voice as possible. He had been serving detention every night this week with Umbridge for having justified his absence in her class by explaining that he had already killed You-Know-Who earlier, for a second time, and this accounted for his third rise and fall.

I must not tell lies.

Over the course of this week, Harry hadn't had any time to see Snape, except for Potions class. Their contact was short and curt. Harry had intended to wander into Snape's office at some point, but these detentions had messed up his plans. Harry certainly did not want the first thing to happen after this awkward and ill-timed silence between them to be about backtalk. It wasn't that Harry feared Snape would hurt him for his backtalk to Umbridge. It was rather that Harry remembered with awful clarity when Snape had ordered him to have nothing to do with the blood quill.

Nervously, Harry glanced at the bloody words on the back of his hand and turned it so that neither of them could see it. It felt wrong to just run to Snape with a complaint about Umbridge. Yes, her detentions were terrible, awful, painful, and humiliating, but it wasn't anything he couldn't cope with. Part of his subconscious reminded him that he might even be grateful for the opportunity to hurt himself. At that, he scowled and felt his cheeks go warm as he refused to look at Umbridge.

"Well, I won't tell Professor Snape this time, then," Umbridge said, "but that is not going to be a rule, I promise you, Mr. Potter." She rose and walked close, where the volume of her voice dropped to the faintest whisper, to a point where Harry had to strain to hear her, despite the proximity. "You will learn respect, even if I have to beat it into you."

"Already been done," Harry whispered back.

"Dismissed," Umbridge said. "Have a good evening."

"You too," Harry spat, as he picked up his bag and darted towards the door.

.oO-Oo.

He really would have to start watching himself around the toad if she was going to drag Snape into this. Harry particularly did not want to deal with explaining why he had directly disobeyed Snape's abundantly clear orders regarding corporal punishment during detentions.

This was the third night Harry was returning to the dorm with his hand still bleeding freely. He'd already asked Hermione to have a salve ready for when he got back, and she had agreed.

When he stepped through the portrait, he spotted the salve in a bowl in the corner of the dorm, but no Hermione or Ron was there to greet him with a smile. Harry realized he had been looking forward to that more than the relief of the burning in his hand. So he sat down and put his hand in the bowl, still glad that Hermione had thought to leave him the remedy.

He spotted a piece of paper poking out from under the bowl and pulled it out.

Sorry about not being here tonight. Something came up. Ron and I will be back as soon as possible.

It wasn't signed, but only one person had handwriting that neat.

And almost as soon as Harry had finished reading, he heard his name called from the new entries to the dorm. Looking up, he saw Hermione and Ron upon their return, and Harry smiled at them.

.oO-Oo.

Earlier that evening, Hermione and Ron were getting the salve ready for Harry. He had already left for his detention.

"I don't know why Snape allows Harry to be treated like that!" Hermione huffed as she dropped a heavy bowl onto the table.

"Well this is Snape we're talking about," Ron pointed out.

"Ron, that's not an argument," Hermione snapped. "The man clearly cares about Harry." Her voice broke a bit. Ron and Hermione's eyes met, and they didn't need to say what they were thinking. Snape knew Harry's secrets of the summer - he had known before the two of them - and he was caring for their friend. They knew they needed to give Snape the benefit of the doubt when it came to genuinely caring about the Boy-Who-Lived. Though they weren't sure why Snape had not pressed Harry for details about his week, seeing how previously, the two of them had been spending increasing amounts of time together. Harry had told them as much that he hadn't seen Snape except for classes and meals all week.

"Maybe he doesn't know," Ron said softly. Hermione stopped and blinked once, twice, three times.

"Then we're going to change that," Hermione replied, equally softly.

"What? Tell on Harry?" Ron seemed aghast.

"Yes, exactly that. We're going to tell on Harry before this gets out of hand. And by Merlin, Ronald Weasley, you're coming with me."

Hermione had scribbled out a note to Harry, so that he didn't worry if they hadn't gotten back before he did. If they returned first, she would simply burn the note. The two of them left the dorm, and in a few minutes, Hermione was knocking on Snape's office door.

"Come in!" Snape barked, as Hermione pushed the door open, Ron following in her shadow.

Wordlessly, Hermione closed the door, and waited for Snape to acknowledge them.

"What do you want?" he snapped, giving them his full attention despite his tone.

"It's about Harry," Hermione began.

"I gathered," Snape drawled. "Have you ever come to see me when it isn't about Harry?"

"Well, no, sir," Hermione stammered.

"What is it?"

"Well, sir," Hermione paused. "It's Umbridge. She's had him in detention all week, sir, and he comes back worse every night. She's making him write with a - "

"Blood quill?" Snape cut her off. He hissed as he threw his own - ordinary - quill into the ink well. "How long has this been happening? All week you say? Not before?"

"No, sir," Hermione said, "but this is Friday."

"I know what day it is, Granger," Snape said. He sighed. "I've told Potter..."

"Don't be too hard on him," Ron interjected.

"Or what, Weasley?"

"Just please don't," Ron reiterated. "He's been awfully quiet, and we're not sure - I mean - he seems okay sometimes, and then, it's like he remembers, and he'll just leave and go to his dorm room and not come out for hours. We're worried about him. Sir." Snape sighed again, now rolling his quill between his fingers thoughtfully.

"As are we all," Snape said quietly.

"You didn't know about his detentions, sir?" Hermione pressed.

"No, I did not," Snape confirmed.

"With all due respect," Hermione said, clearing her throat, clearly gathering her courage. Snape raised an inquiring eyebrow at the girl. "Sir. It seems a little irresponsible of you to have gone this long without seeing Harry." That earned her a unbridled sneer from the Professor.

"Obviously," he drawled, "you have no idea what's been happening. I was not going to push my presence on Mr. Potter, due to personal reasons. It was within his prerogative to choose not to see me, and I had concluded that had been his choice, and I would respect it. Five points from Gryffindor for impertinence." Hermione's eyes narrowed at Snape.

"Ten points from Slytherin for sheer gall," Hermione retorted, full knowing she had crossed the line farther than she ever had with any professor. Ron looked at her like she had grown a third head. Snape rose, his chair scraping the floor. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned toward where Hermione stood. She didn't back down. Instead she glared back.

"Do you care to repeat that, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, his tone deadly.

"You have been the best thing Harry's had since his - summer," Hermione began. "You can't just abandon him. He'll spiral out of our control. He's already doing that. Rather than working at cross-purposes, don't you think it's time for you to take up your responsibility to him? You know Harry isn't ready to reach out for help by himself yet. And unless you're giving up on him entirely, you need to be the one to reach out to him, despite how it may wound your sense of pride."

"Out! Out! Get out of my office!" Snape shouted. "And fifteen points from Gryffindor for placing no value on your lives!" Ron certainly did not need to be told twice to leave. He was at the door before Snape had finished. Hermione was not long behind, though a small smile played on her lips.

When they were safely out of the office, neither one noticed that there were 20 red rocks falling back into Gryffindor's hourglass, and 10 green ones being sucked away from Slytherin's.

.oO-Oo.

"Minerva, I'm going to kill her."

"No, you won't, Severus."

"Yes, I will, I'm going to kill her."

"Oh, come on, think. You don't really mean that."

"Yes, I do, I'm going to kill her."

"Think of Harry."

"That's why I'm going to kill her."

"Not even Dumbledore will be able to keep you out of Azkaban for that."

Severus sighed as he sank back into one of Minerva's cushioned arm chairs and took a sip of the tea she had served him.

"Fine," Severus pouted. "Can I torture her instead?" Minerva laughed. Severus pouted some more.

"You resemble a petulant child," Minerva told him.

"I do not!" Severus replied, indignant. He went back to brooding for a moment.

"I'm going to kill her," he stated again. "She hurt my son."

"Just try to stay out of Azkaban," Minerva sighed.

Severus shot her a glare as severe as the one Miss Granger had received and left his half drunk tea on the table as he left Minerva's chambers without any further word of good-bye.

.oO-Oo.

Harry smiled as his friends entered the Gryffindor common room.

"Hey, guys," he said, his hand still soaking in the cool salve.

"Hi, mate," Ron replied, sitting across from him, Hermione taking a place next to him.

"Where did you go?" Harry asked.

"Um..." Ron began and looked at Hermione to save him.

"I remembered a question about some homework due tomorrow," Hermione sighed.

"That would explain why Ron looks like he's had an allergy attack," Harry observed casually. "What subject?"

"Potions," Hermione said.

"Ah," Harry acknowledged awkwardly. "Did Snape say anything interesting?"

"He took 20 points from Gryffindor!" Ron shouted, though the common room was too noisy for anyone else to have heard.

"Typical," Harry said as he glanced at the hour glasses. Gryffindor had the same number of points as before, and Slytherin had lost ten. Harry wondered what had really transpired in the Professor's office.

Harry thought about the irony of Hermione's explanation.

She did not have I must not tell lies carved into her hand.


	20. The Prison of Delusion

"Don't do it," Harry begged as his uncle began to strip him. Harry lay pinned on his back, too defeated to even cry properly anymore. He had a sick, twisted feeling in his stomach though. He tried to buck the larger man off of him, but even Harry knew his attempt was pitiful. He felt his cheeks flush with shame, both at his nakedness and at how pathetic he was.

"You're so beautiful when you blush," his uncle pointed out. Harry didn't respond. Vernon's hands began to caress his backside and Harry flinched, but knew he wasn't to shrink away, no matter how sickened and disgusted he was.

Slowly, carefully, Vernon inserted his fingers, preparing Harry.

"Please," Harry whispered, as his tears began to fall.

"Of course, my little whore, always begging for more," Vernon replied, and began to prod Harry's sweet spot. Harry shut his mouth, and decided to shut up if he pleas for mercy were going to be thrown back in his face.

"Mmm," Vernon moaned as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, inserted himself into Harry, who closed his eyes, attempting to shut out the world. It didn't work.

"Stop, stop," Harry cried, his sobs causing his voice to break. "Stop it."

"Harry, you like it," Vernon said, "I know you do." Harry's face twisted into an unreadable expression, as Vernon tried to prove his point. Harry whimpered quietly, and he hated himself for it.

"There you go. Keep it up," Vernon instructed. When Harry bit his lip instead, to keep from making anymore compromising vocalizations, Vernon slapped his face. "Do as I said." Then Harry whimpered again, but more from the pain and humiliation of the slap than anything else. Involuntarily, Harry's whole body contracted and clenched with the shock of the slap.

"Oh, Harry," Vernon gasped. "Do that again." And Vernon came, and Harry wept, and all was the same.

When Harry woke, he wasn't in Vernon's arms. He slept alone, on the stone floor of the Malfoy mansion. As he sat up and blinked in the darkness, Harry heard someone move. A quiet "lumos" lit a wand, and Harry saw Snape's figure approach him.

"Oh, God, don't," Harry cried, a feeling of terror washing over him, as he banged his head into the stone wall, doing nothing but earning him a headache. "Snape! Don't touch me!" Harry cowered in the corner of the holding cell. "Dad!" But the approaching figure just sat beside him.

"Everything will be alright, Harry," Snape's soft voice said. Harry still breathed quickly, but he wondered if everything would, in fact, be alright.

"You just had a nightmare," Snape continued. Harry nodded. Snape reached around Harry's shoulders and Harry leaned into the comforting touch. Then Snape undid the top butting on Harry's shirt and pushed it off his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Harry screamed, backing away quickly, pulling his shirt back on his shoulder.

"Surely you don't need me to tell you?" Snape drawled.

"You're not him!" Harry shouted. "You're Voldemort!"

"You'll never know, will you?" the man who looked like Snape replied calmly. Harry jumped out and ran to the bars of the cell and began to shout and shake them, trying to anything to get out. "Just stay there," Snape's voice whispered into his ear. Harry heard the sound of a fly opening and felt Snape pull his, Harry's, trousers down. Without any preparation, Harry felt the burning pain of a full thrust and he screamed like he's never screamed before. Harry's vision tunneled, and he felt warm suddenly.

"Stand up," Snape's voice growled, he Snape grabbed him by the hair. "Stand up and take it like a man."

But Harry passed out anyway.

Harry glanced around the large stone room. A fire crackled in the fireplace. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with him. Harry glanced at his hands. They were pure white. Viewing another of Voldemort's thoughts. Harry sighed. Voldemort didn't, but Harry did. Harry was trapped, his consciousness distinct from Voldemort's.

Snape stepped through the fireplace.

"Finally arriaved," Harry - Voldemort! - said.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Look at me," Voldemort said. When Snape complied, a few moments later, Harry saw the despair in them.

"Just kill me," Snape whispered. "Do me the mercy of killing me, please."

"Of course," Voldemort whispered, as he drew his wand. "Avada Kedavra."

Snape's body crumpled to the floor.

Harry woke and ran from the dorm.

.oO-Oo.

Harry pulled himself tighter into the farthest corner of the girls' bathroom on the second floor. One arm reached around his torso, the other hand reaching to his shoulder as he pulled his knees closer to his face. Harry whimpered softly.

The nightmares had been so bad. They had been so bad. Harry had woken up sweaty, his heart rate quickened, as was his breathing, his throat dry, his voice hoarse from screaming, and his pillow was wet with the tears that had failed to wake him. The lucid dreaming had failed. His mind tricked him by layering his dreams. The deeper he dreamed, the less control he had.

He was scared and he couldn't take it anymore. Life was just too hard, and he wanted it to stop. He wasn't sure if he meant life or his problems. He inhaled a shuddering breath and tried to calm his panicked mind. It hadn't worked any of the past times he had tried it this morning, and Harry didn't hold out a lot of hope that it would work this time either. And it didn't.

Harry swallowed and let his mind be sucked back into the world of his nightmares. He whimpered and cried, and rocked himself back and forth, trying to find some level of comfort from the hell he was forced to live every day. He closed his eyes and shut out the world around him.

.oO-Oo.

Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy estate and prince of Slytherin, wandered alone in the deserted corridors of the second floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when he heard a muffled sound coming from the girls' bathroom. Curious now, Draco ducked into the forgotten lavatory. He did not expect the sight that met his eyes.

Potter sat on the floor, a mess, his school uniform disheveled, and his hair unkempt. Well, Potter's hair was always unkempt, Draco realized. Usually Potter had enough dignity to keep his tie straight and his shirt tucked in though. Usually Potter had enough dignity to not cry in a girls' bathroom.

The sight was almost enough to move a Malfoy to pity. Almost. If Potter hadn't been the cause of his father's humiliation in front of all the Death Eaters, if Potter hadn't been Snape's son, maybe, just maybe, he would have been moved to pity. But no, Potter was Snape's son now. His father had informed him of this plot twist when it had come out at the meeting that Sirius Black had attended. And of course the heir to the Malfoy thrown was acutely aware of all the dealings with the Dark Lord and how his father and Bellatrix had planned to raise the man from the dead a second time. And Draco blamed his Head of House equally, if not more, than he blamed Potter for that fiasco. Potter had been born into his role - just as Draco himself had - and he played his part - just like Draco himself did. Snape, on the other hand, chose his role, and had made it abundantly clear that he cared more for the Potter boy than he did for Draco. Snape had not stopped to think what his actions would mean for Draco. And Draco was, admittedly, jealous of that attention. That wasn't his biggest grievance though. Draco was more than capable of dealing without Snape's attention. What irked him more than anything was that Snape would play the traitor like that. And while Draco blamed Snape more than he blamed Potter, that didn't mean that he didn't blame Potter. He blamed Potter for everything he could. And right now, Potter was an easy target. Potter may as well receive all the frustration he felt, both for himself and for Snape. After all, he got to receive his father's frustrations often enough. Draco was not going to pass up this opportunity. It was the perfect opportunity.

"Potter!" Draco called sharply, since it was obvious the Gryffindor had not noticed his entrance.

Someone had called his name, Harry realized. He raised his head and looked in the direction of the noise. Couldn't his sorry excuse of a family just let him sleep for once? He didn't want to do his uncle's bidding, not again. He'd done everything he had to. Sure enough, Harry saw his uncle standing in front of him, waiting. Harry shuddered, tired of fighting.

"Please don't," Potter whimpered at him. That was quite unlike the cocky Gryffindor he always had known. Draco stopped his advance and blinked, hoping Harry would expound on his eloquent request. Draco didn't have to wait long. "I'm sorry, don't hurt me. I didn't mean it." Draco didn't know what was wrong with Potter but he continued to approach the huddled form in the corner.

"Get up, Potter, and quit your whimpering!" Draco growled as he reached out and grabbed Potter by the arm.

Harry watched as his uncle stepped towards him, and Harry whimpered wordlessly as his hand reached out and grabbed him. Panic rose in Harry's throat as his uncle dared touch him again, dared use him again.

"Uncle Vernon, no, not again, please!" Potter screamed at him, desperately trying to wiggle out of Draco's grip. Uncle Vernon? Draco knew Potter lived with his Muggle relatives since his parents were dead. And apparently Potter was having some sort of nervous breakdown and wasn't seeing Draco Malfoy, no, Potter was seeing his uncle. Draco's eyes narrowed. Now would be a perfect opportunity to get some information on the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Oh, yes, Potter," Draco replied, hoping Potter was at least hearing him, even if not seeing him. "It'll all happen. Again, and again, and again." Draco still had no idea what he was talking about, but hopefully he could figure it out if he kept Potter talking. He pulled Potter up against the wall, to eye level, none too gently, and pressed Potter's shoulders against the stone wall to keep him from sinking back to the floor. Harry broke and his breathing came in hitching sobs.

"I can't, not again, I'm not yours, I'm not your whore," Potter sobbed. Draco blinked, shocked.

"My whore?" he repeated. Potter began to shake in Draco's hands.

"Please, Uncle Vernon, not tonight, I think I'll die if you do it tonight, please don't," Potter continued to beg. "I'll do it tomorrow, I promise. I won't even fight. I'll be good." Potter wiped the freely flowing tears from his eyes. As much as it felt good to have Potter begging him, for anything, Draco was a bit scared of what the boy would do. It was clear Potter was not seeing reality. Someone who didn't see reality was dangerous for just that reason and Draco doubted the wisdom of continuing to goad Potter considering his condition.

After he had recovered enough to see reality though. That was another matter, and Draco couldn't stop a small, wicked smile from illuminating his features as he savored the thought of what he could do with this new information.

"Wake up, Potter! I'm not your uncle!" Draco shouted, shaking his nemesis. Potter gasped, as his eyes visibly refocused.

"Get away from me!" Potter screamed as he pushed Draco away roughly. Now standing on his own, Potter swiftly drew his wand and leveled it at Draco.

Harry had seen the Polyjuice potion wear off. His uncle had become Voldemort. Leering, hungry Voldemort. Harry couldn't take it from his uncle, and he wouldn't take it from Voldemort. So he drew his wand and leveled it at the bastard who killed his parents, destroyed Snape's life, and not threatened his own.

Draco sneered at Potter. That was a much better reaction. He drew his own wand in response. Now they were getting someone. Draco wasn't nearly a fast enough draw though, because no sooner had the butt end of his wand come out of his sleeve when Potter slammed into him with the full measly weight of his body.

Light though Potter was, he had the element of surprise, and Draco crumpled to the floor with Potter straddling him on top, knees pinning Draco's arms. Potter reached out and grabbed Draco's wand. He slammed it against the stone floor, shattering the wood. The only thing that held it together was one strand of unicorn hair and Harry pitched the wand across the bathroom until it hit the wall and lay in two clean pieces.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Draco screamed. He'd never intended to lose his wand over this. They were enemies, but these were the actions of a truly desperate animal.

"You won't hurt me again," Potter gasped, both hands on his wand as he brought it closer to Draco's face, between his eyes. Draco refused to look at the wand, refused to go cross-eyed. "You won't hurt Snape again. Ever. I won't let you. I'm going to kill you!"

"What are you going on about?" Draco shouted back at him.

"You killed my parents and you did worse to Snape!" Potter screamed at him.

Oh, now he wasn't Potter's uncle, now he was the Dark Lord. Draco sighed. If it wasn't that his hallucinating nemesis had him pinned to the floor, broken his weapon, and was holding him at wand point, Draco would have laughed.

Without even needing to think, Harry was able to cast every hex and curse he knew at the man. He, Harry, would be victorious. He would triumph.

"I'm going to kill you," Potter whispered. "Once and for all, I'll kill you."

.oO-Oo.

The ghosts of Hogwarts had an inexplicably uncanny way of making sure every one of them heard about all the noteworthy occurrences in the school. Despite the fact that she annoyed everyone, Moaning Myrtle was no exception. The ghosts always kept her informed, though nothing noteworthy ever happened in the girls' bathroom on the second floor.

Until Harry Potter arrived, that is.

Upon seeing the nasty turn which Harry Potter took on Draco Malfoy, Moaning Myrtle decided to notify the Bloody Baron. The Bloody Baron took the news in stride, and told Myrtle to flush herself down the toilet.

Being a Slytherin, albeit a ghost, the Baron knew there was something more at work besides two school enemies attacking each other. He also knew Myrtle could not keep her mouth shut if she heard any delicate information.

Due to the nature of ghosts, the Baron was able to enter Severus' chambers without the password. He woke the professor.

Immediately, a red beam shot from Severus' wand through the Baron's translucent form.

"Really, Severus," the Baron drawled.

"What do you want?" Severus sighed as he realized it was the unholy hour of 10:30 on Saturday. It was a weekend, and Severus particularly appreciated this one simple pleasure - to sleep as long as he wished. Often, during the week, he cut his sleep short for various reasons, and the weekend was the one time no one ever bothered Severus Snape unless they pinned very little value on their lives. Of course, the Bloody Baron did not have this particular problem.

"Myrtle has informed me that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are fighting in the bathroom. Naturally, since one is of your house, and the other is your son," Severus' eyebrow shot up, "you were the most logical choice to notify." Severus visibly rolled his eyes and slipped out of bed.

"Thank you. I will see to them."

Severus took the time to wrap his clock around his nightwear before he set out in the early morning hours to see what was happening in the girls' bathroom this time.

.oO-Oo.

"Harry James Potter!"

"Professor Snape, get him off me! He's going to kill me!"

Harry looked up at him. That was a good sign.

Severus walked into the bathroom in time to hear Harry's threat to the blond Slytherin, and to hear Draco's objections.

"What do you think you're doing, Harry?" Severus asked, more calmly this time, now that he had Harry's attention. Harry still had his wand to Draco's forehead and his hand to his enemy's throat, but he was blinking stupidly at Severus, and so he had full faith that Harry would not do anything as long as he, Severus, held the boy's attention.

"I was going to kill him," Harry whispered.

"Do you know who's under your wand?" Severus asked his voice dropping volume again, and he crouched to eye level with Harry. The naked fear in Harry's eyes was apparent, and Harry was held in Severus' gaze. "Look," Severus whispered. Nervously, Harry and Severus both looked down at Draco.

"It's him," Harry whispered. "Let me kill him. For both of us." Harry was visibly steeling his will to cast the necessary spell.

"No, you don't," Severus suddenly said, and grabbed Harry by the armpits. Severus lifted Harry off of Draco, much to Harry's protests.

"What are you doing?" Harry screamed.

"Look at him!" Severus shouted back. "It's Draco Malfoy! Look! See the person who's really there!" Severus forced Harry to look at the blond Slytherin as Draco rose to his feet, slowly and painfully. Blood dripped from Draco's hands, and he was favoring his left foot.

Harry screamed and jumped back from the other boy. He held his hand to his mouth and then glanced fearfully at his wand.

"I'm so sorry," Harry murmured. "I - I didn't - It's not what it looks like, I swear! I'm sorry, Malfoy, I - " And Harry descended into senseless babble as he collapsed on the floor. Draco brushed the dirt off his robes and sniffed disdainfully.

"So long, Potter," Draco said, coolly as he turned on his heel, though he limped. Draco bent over and picked up the remnants of his wand, weighing them carefully in his hand. "My father - and the whole school - will hear about this, I promise."

"Draco, go to the infirmary!" Severus shouted at him, as he sat beside Harry. "If you don't, I'll do worse to you!"

"Draco," Harry croaked from his fetal position on the floor. Severus laid his hand on Harry's head, trying to offer some measly comfort. "Please don't tell. I'm begging you." Harry kept his eyes closed, and for that, Severus was grateful. Harry never saw the evil grin cross Draco's face. All he heard was Draco's reply.

"We'll see, Potter." With that, Draco nodded in outward respectfulness and limped out of the bathroom.

"You still better go to the infirmary!" Severus called after him. He would definitely have to do something about that boy.

.oO-Oo.

Harry lay curled on the floor for a few minutes, not speaking, not moving. If it weren't for the occasional hitched breath and sob, Severus would have mistaken him for a corpse. Severus sat beside him and didn't say a thing, just ran his hand over Harry's head, and through his hair.

"I'm sorry," Harry finally said.

"It's alright," Severus replied softly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, keeping his voice level as he sat up and sniffed back the last of his tears. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"I know you are," Severus replied. "It's not your fault."

"I thought Draco was my uncle," Harry began but choked on the words after that.

"And then he became the Dark Lord," Severus concluded. Harry nodded, unable to trust his voice.

"Am I going insane?" Harry whispered.

"I won't let you go insane," Severus whispered back and pulled him close. "You're not allowed to die, and you're not allowed to go insane."

"Draco knows," Harry muttered into Severus' robes. "He's not stupid, and I said enough."

"Yes, I'm sure Draco can put the pieces together," Severus replied, not willing to lie to the boy.

"I'm scared," Harry said. "Draco will - I know he will."

"Will you feel better if I have a talk with him?" Severus asked.

"What can you do?"

"I will do my best," Severus promised.

"Yes, please," Harry said. "Can you do it now?"

"You need me now."

"No, go do it now," Harry pleaded. "Before it's too late. What if he's already told someone?" Harry was ready to begin crying again, or have another panic attack.

"Alright, alright," Severus said, standing up. "I'll go talk to him now. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"I don't believe you," Severus replied, helping Harry get to his feet. The boy was still deathly pale and shaking. "I want you to find your friends, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, and spend time with them until I can speak with you some more." Harry nodded. "Do you promise?"

"Yes, sir, I promise," Harry said.

"Repeat it back to me."

"I'll go find Hermione and Ron until you contact me."

"Correct," Severus said. "I will go have a talk with one Draco Malfoy in the meantime. You can rest easy. Do not exert yourself in the meantime. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. I imagine your friends are in the common room. I will be in the infirmary."

.oO-Oo.

Harry kept his head down as he walked back to the common room. As long as he watched the pattern in the carpet and didn't meet anyone's eyes, he thought he would be alright. He focused his mind on his goal - to find Hermione and Ron. That was all he had to do. Find his friends and sit tight and nothing bad would happen. Snape hadn't seemed angry with him in the bathroom. Everything was going to be fine.

"Ahem."

Well, he was going insane, but everything would be fine.

"A-hem."

Harry saw a pair of sickeningly pink pumps enter his field of vision. One was tapping the carpet expectantly. Nervously, Harry raised his eyes until he saw the toad watching him with a look too smug to mean anything good for him.

"Harry!" another voice broke the fearful silence. Harry and Umbridge both looked in the direction of the voice. Hermione and Ron came running over to them. "We were worried about you!" Hermione continued, but Harry signaled her to stop talking.

"It isn't Mr. Potter you should be worried about, Miss Granger," Umbridge said, and Harry wanted to vomit at the sound of her voice. "According to reports, Mr. Potter attacked Mr. Malfoy - entirely unprovoked, I might add - and threatened to kill him."

"What?" Ron exclaimed.

"He didn't!" Hermione objected.

"Mr. Potter?" Umbridge prompted. "And what do you have to say about this?"

"Of course I did no such thing," Harry lied.

"That isn't what Mr. Malfoy says," Umbridge continued.

"It's only reasonable he would make it up," Harry deflected.

"With blood dripping from his hands?" Umbridge asked. Hermione gasped. "I doubt Mr. Malfoy would want to defend his real attacker enough to blame you, if it wasn't you."

"It's his word against mine," Harry said. It was his last argument.

"We could find the truth with Veritaserum, if you are so sure of your innocence, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said thoughtfully. "Of course, if you can save me the use of the potion, I'll still go slightly easier on your - very necessary - punishment." Harry glanced uneasily at Hermione and Ron.

"It's not like it sounds," Harry began addressing his friends, "but Malfoy was right. Professor Snape was involved though! He'll be able to see to it that it gets straightened out."

"Professor Snape may be able to take your personal discipline in his own hands," Umbridge said. "But this is a school matter. Simply because a professor has adopted you does not mean that you are above school rules nor cannot serve a detention with anyone else. Now. Come with me, and you'll spend every waking moment in detention until you've learned to control that temper of yours and have learned a little respect!" Harry gave Hermione and Ron a pleading look, but he knew they couldn't do anything.

"We'll tell Professor Snape!" Hermione shrieked.

"Please," Umbridge replied.

"It's alright, Hermione," Harry mumbled, looking defeated. "Don't bother him. He's doing something more important right now."

"More important than seeing to it than attempted murderer is disciplined?" Harry didn't deign to respond. Umbridge turned, and Harry reluctantly followed, a sense of dread building in his stomach.

.oO-Oo.

"We're telling Professor Snape," Hermione said after a few minutes of getting her own rage under control.

"Yes," Ron agreed. "Yes, we are."

The two friends set off for Snape's office, but he was not there.

"We need to find him!" Hermione began to panic. She never thought well when she was angry or panicked.

"Hermione," Ron said, "think! Your emotions always get in the way of your thinking."

"Like you would know anything about that, Ronald Weasley," she retorted, but she knew it was true. "Well, Harry admitted that Malfoy was hurt. Umbridge said he had blood dripping from his hands. Malfoy is probably in the infirmary."

"And Harry said Snape was doing something important," Ron continued, when it was apparent that Hermione wasn't. "So if Malfoy is in the infirmary, it's possible Snape is there too. Maybe that's what Snape's doing that's oh-so-important." Ron rolled his eyes. "Leave it to Snape to think that Malfoy is more important that his son."

"Ron, you don't know what's really going on," Hermione chastised. "Let's go find Snape and tell him what's happened to Harry. Then we'll find out."

"Alright," Ron agreed. The two of them ran all the way to the infirmary, much to the disgruntlement of several teachers, and the amusement of several students. When they arrived, they found Snape standing at the foot of Malfoy's bed, with Malfoy looking like a petulant child. Snape was seething and glaring at Malfoy like he usually did when a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff had blown up the potions lab, again.

"Professor!" Ron and Hermione shouted together. Snape turned and looked at them. His expression was unreadable.

"What do you want?" Snape asked, his voice cold. If anything told them that Snape did not want to disturbed at the moment, it was his tone. They glanced at Malfoy and looked uncertain. With a curt nod, Snape stalked past them, out of the infirmary.

"This had better be important," Snape threatened, "or I promise I will give both of you detentions for the week."

"Umbridge gave Harry another detention!" Hermione began. "We were looking for Harry and found her talking to him. She said that Malfoy told her that Harry had tried to kill him. Harry said that was right and she took him for a detention. You've got to stop her!"

Snape let out a string of profanity that none of the students had ever heard from his mouth. Hermione and Ron stared with open mouths.

"My apologies," Snape said when he realized why he had two Gryffindors gawking at him. "Move along. Surely you have something better to do than stare at a teacher."

"You'll help Harry?" Hermione pressed.

"Would I swear over it if I wasn't?"

"No, sir, thank you," Hermione said, and she dragged Ron away with her. They hid behind a pillar long enough to see Snape shout back to Malfoy that he didn't want to hear of any new rumors and if there were any rumors, he Draco would have more than just Harry to worry about. Then they saw the man leave with his usual blusteriness, cape trailing behind him.

Snape was still in his pajamas. Ron laughed.

.oO-Oo.

Conveniently, Minerva's office was on the way, and he made a quick detour there. He would need her help in this.

"Minerva," he said. "Come with me, please. It's urgent." Without question, she followed Severus, as he began to explain.

"Thing happened," he began, "and Harry has another detention with the Toad."

"Such disrespect for a professor," Minerva admonished. Severus didn't rise to the bait.

"I want you there to make sure I don't kill her," Severus continued.

"Alright," Minerva agreed. She knew better than to cross Severus Snape when he was that angry. Apparently toads didn't have that much common sense.

.oO-Oo.

There was a knock at the door. No, it was a relentless pounding, Harry realized. It didn't stop or lighten up. Umbridge rose and answered the door. Harry kept his eyes down on the paper.

I must not tell lies.

"Get out of my way, woman," a familiar voice hissed. Harry looked up, horrified, and immediately rose from where he sat. Blood dripped from his hand, leaving bright red circles on Umbridge's carpet. Recovering much more quickly than Harry would have expected, Umbridge walked over to where Snape was now slowly approaching him.

Snape's eyes were flashing with untold rage, but Snape gently took Harry's hand in his own and wordlessly healed the bloody scars. Harry was scared, unsure what Snape would do to him.

"You leave him alone, Snape!" Umbridge shouted. Snape turned his head and attention on the woman in pink immediately. He trained his wand on her, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a full five degrees.

"That," Snape said, deathly quietly, but the room was silent, and everyone could hear without straining, "has precisely been my mistake. I've left him alone for far to long this week. When he didn't come to me, I should have gone to him. Corporal punishment has not been allowed at this school for over 50 years, Umbridge. What makes you think you can use a blood quill? Do you think you're above the law? On second though, don't answer that! You hurt my son! And I love him more than anyone alive! You bloody damn hurt my son, you bitch, and I'm going to fucking send you and your shitty pen to hell! Cruc-"

Harry reached out and pulled Snape's wand down before he could finish the spell.

"Don't," Harry whispered, as he put his arms around Snape. "She's not worth it." The anger in Snape's frame melted away as Harry locked his hands behind his father's back. Snape put his hand on Harry's head.

"But you are." Harry just shook his head. Umbridge was pale and shaking in the corner. Minerva was the only one to notice, and the two women left wordlessly.

"Fine," Snape said. "We're leaving. Now. You and me. We're going to London, and we're spending the weekend away from this infernal school and all of its abysmal atrocities."


	21. Let It Go

Harry looked around, at the buildings, the people, and finally Snape, as they walked through the heart of London. They were dressed in Muggle clothes. Harry wore a light shirt and jeans, and Snape was wearing a button down dress shirt with the top button undone and slacks, both black. It had been a long time since Harry had been to London. The Dursleys never went out of their way to take him there, and as a wizard, no one took him there either. It was almost as though he were a tourist. The smells were foreign, and the shop windows held numerous temptations.

Snape had been quiet this whole time. After announcing their impromptu trip, and notifying the Headmaster, Snape had instructed him to change his clothes to something more suitable than his school uniform, and they walked till they were just outside the wards, where they disapparated. Other than curt instructions, Snape hadn't opened his mouth. They continued to wander aimlessly.

"Shall we stop for something to eat?" Snape suggested. "It's past time for lunch."

"Alright," Harry agreed. He would have agreed to almost anything Snape suggested at this point, realizing that the situation was awkward beyond belief. He couldn't imagine that Snape was anymore comfortable than he was.

"Is there anywhere you would like to go?" Snape asked.

"The Chinese take-away?" Harry suggested hopefully. He'd always wanted to try Chinese take-away and it had never worked out.

"The Chinese take-away it is, then," Snape replied.

.oO-Oo.

Severus ordered their meals, and the two of them went to a near by park. Breaking all the rules of dignity, Severus sat down on the grass, his back against a tree, across from Harry, who sat in a similar position, as they unpacked the food he had just bought. Severus handed Harry the chow mien he had chosen and opened his own egg fu yung. Silently, they each began to eat their food of choice.

"We need to talk," Severus finally said, laying his own food aside. He couldn't eat while he was trying to think of how to say everything that needed to be said. Harry visibly swallowed and tensed. Those were cursed words, "We need to talk." Harry also put down his food. Severus crossed his arms and watched Harry with a close eye.

"Alright," Harry finally acknowledged. "I'm sorry about today."

"Today is only the last of a tragedy which needs to be sorted out," Severus countered. "I suppose where we should begin is with my own apology. I'm sorry about my negligence toward you this week. We both know my reasons for giving you space; clearly they were not good enough."

"It's fine," Harry said. "I would have come to see you, it was just I was busy all week."

"With detentions," Severus pointed out. "You could have taken a minute after class to tell me. I told you not to let her do that to you."

"I didn't want to bother you with that," Harry muttered.

"What did you do to earn her ire, anyway?"

"I told the truth," Harry said, biting his lips nervously.

"About?"

"That I had been with you, and we prevented the third rise of You-Know-Who."

"There are times to tell the truth, and there are times to tell less of it," Severus sighed. "And she gave you a week of detentions over that?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, nodding a bit.

"And what about my instructions, that you were not to let her do that to you again?"

"I - I forgot," Harry lied.

"Read your scars, Harry," Severus whispered. Without even thinking about it, Harry glanced at the scars he knew so well.

"I didn't think it was a big deal," Harry amended.

"You've always been an incredibly bad lair," Severus commented. "That by itself should have convinced Umbridge that you were telling the truth."

"Thank you? I guess?" Harry almost laughed.

"I still told you to not let her do it," Severus pushed again. "Whether it was a big deal or not, I told you not to." Harry simply shrugged.

"I didn't mind," he finally said, when it was apparent Severus had no intention of having a one sided conversation.

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Harry said, getting frustrated. "I guess it didn't really matter to me." Severus arched one eyebrow.

"And why was that?"

"Did it matter? Does it matter? After everything? What's a blood quill and writing a few lines after everything?"

"Would you let one of your friends have to suffer a detention like that, warranted or not?"

"No, sir," Harry replied, playing with the hem of his shirt.

"Don't sell yourself short then," Severus advised. "If you wouldn't let one of your friends do it, it's probably not something you should be doing."

"Alright, sir, I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Severus said. "And thank you, by the way." Harry's head shot up and he blinked at Severus.

"For what?"

"For keeping me from a one way ticket to Azkaban," Severus explained.

"Oh," Harry nodded. "You're welcome. I didn't think you would actually do it."

"I would have, and worse," Severus confessed. "If there were no witnesses and no one to interfere, I will admit I probably would have killed her." Harry looked at him oddly. "Whether you like to believe it or not, I'm a killer, Harry."

"You've just spent so long pretending, you've forgotten that you're not," Harry whispered.

"Perhaps," Severus deflected quietly. "What happened this morning?"

"Nightmare," Harry muttered. "The lucid dreaming failed. My mind layered the dreams, and no matter how many times I woke up, I was still asleep."

"Ah," Severus nodded sadly. "That happens sometimes. When your brain needs to dream badly enough."

"You never warned me," Harry accused.

"It doesn't happen to everyone," Severus explained. "I'm sorry. Why didn't one of your dorm mates wake you?"

"I use a silencing spell," Harry sighed.

"Because that's always the bright thing to do," Severus replied, though the acerbic tone was definitely missing. "Of course whenever you know you have nightmares you purposely set it up so that no one knows to wake you!"

"I didn't want to bother them!" Harry shouted.

"I gathered," Severus drawled.

"So I can't have the dreamless sleep, lucid dreaming fails, and I won't even be able to save my dignity with a silencing spell," Harry summed up.

"You cannot have the dreamless sleep, lucid dreaming sometimes fails, and it won't damage your dignity to acknowledge reality!" Severus corrected. "I do believe your friends have made their intentions clear, that they won't mind helping you, if you just reach your hand out the slightest inch." Harry sighed, a bit louder than he had meant to.

"You're not supposed to care this much," Harry said.

"I believe I am," Severus retorted. "Why didn't you come to me about your nightmare if it was bad enough for you to start hallucinating after?"

"It was a bad dream," Harry muttered sullenly. "I'm 15 years old. I shouldn't have to go running to someone over a bad dream!"

"Do you care to share any more details about it?" Severus offered.

"No, sir," Harry replied, and then shrugged again. "It wasn't important."

"On the contrary, I believe Mr. Malfoy found it rather important." A look of horror crossed Harry's face.

"Did you talk to him?" Harry suddenly asked, running his words together.

"Yes, I did," Severus affirmed. "How willing he is to cooperate, I don't know. Your friends came to tell me of your plight with Umbridge before I was able to get a sense of his reaction."

"I won't be able to take it," Harry whispered. "I can't take much more, or I definitely will go insane, if I'm not there already."

"The surest sign that you remain sane is that you doubt your sanity," Severus said, and Harry gave him an odd look. "It's one of the paradoxes of universe. The more you question your sanity, the saner you are. The truly insane have no doubt that they are the sanest person in the room."

"You're just trying to make me feel better," Harry said.

"I won't allow you to go insane," Severus said. "You can't give up."

"Too late," Harry scoffed.

"Then that's your problem. You've already given up."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, turning his face away. "A long time ago." Severus rose, went over to Harry and sat down beside him. Wordlessly, Severus put his arm around Harry, who took the opportunity to hide his face in Severus' dress shirt, though he didn't cry.

"You can't give up," Severus repeated.

"Why?" Harry said, looking forward like a petulant child who had been denied some sweets with his arms crossed as he glared at the spot which Severus had recently vacated. "Because I'm the savior of the wizarding world and it's my job to save everyone?"

"No, because if you give up - " Severus cut himself off. Then he continued in a quieter tone, "Because if you give up, I'm not sure I could continue on, knowing what a pathetic failure I will have been."

"You're not the failure here," Harry muttered.

"And neither are you," Severus pressed. "The failures are your uncle and the Dark Lord."

"How can you know that?"

"We both beat them," Severus said. "We're alive, and they're not."

"Their actions live on," Harry said quietly. "I'll always have to live with my uncle's marks on my body." The boy shuddered.

"Every seven years, all the cells in your body will have gone through at least one full cycle and regenerated themselves," Severus said. "So every seven years, you get a new body. In seven years, you'll have a body your uncle has never touched."

"I don't want to wait seven years," Harry said, his voice dropping another decibel. "I want the pain to stop now. Haven't I suffered enough?"

"Yes, you've suffered more than anyone should ever have to," Severus said, pulling Harry close and rubbing small comforting circles on Harry's arm as Harry leaned into him. "And I'm sorry."

"You deal with it so much better than I do," Harry said.

"Because I've been dealing with it for so much longer than you have," Severus pointed out. "I've learned how to act, not necessarily how to cope. If I had an answer for you, I would give it." They both fell quiet, neither saying anything for what seemed a long time. Harry didn't push him away, for which Severus was grateful. He didn't want to have to deal with the boy not cooperating. Instead, Harry leaned against him, and closed his eyes. Severus didn't think Harry was sleeping, but he had relaxed a great deal, which Severus took as a good sign.

"What are you thinking about?" Severus whispered. Soft enough to not wake him, if he was sleeping, and loud enough to be heard if he wasn't.

"Death," Harry replied, equally softly. Severus was disappointed at the response, but not surprised.

"Why?"

"You know why. It's the only answer that offers me peace."

"Let it go, Harry."

"Let what go?"

"The past," Severus replied. "You're living in the past, and forgetting that the time you have now is yours."

"That sounds a lot like Gandalf," Harry snorted quietly. He still had his eyes closed, and Severus didn't know what sort of images the boy was entertaining behind his eyelids.

"Maybe Gandalf is right in this case," Severus said. "Let go of the past, and live in the time that's given to you. It won't make the pain of those memories less, but it may make you experience that pain less often."

"I don't think it'll work," Harry said.

"Then it won't hurt to try, will it?"

"No, I suppose not."

"There's many, many things a person can regret about their lives," Severus philosophized. "Some things we were responsible for and others we weren't, but they're always in the past, and they're always be there. You might not be able to change the past, but you can change the future. If you take yourself out of it, then you will have let the past not only destroy that part of your life, but you'll have let it destroy your whole life."

"What if I can't let go?"

"You can," Severus assured him. "You're strong, and you can let go. The more you keep it bottled up inside you, the more you have to hold on to it. You have to hang on, to keep it in, and that means you can't let the past go. Until you learn to release the metaphorical bottle cap, you can't. You're strong enough to move past it though. And I promise to be there every step of the way." Unless I die in the meantime, Severus mentally added. He couldn't promise that a renegade Death Eater wouldn't kill him, but he could promise that as long as he had life and breath in his body, he would be there to help Harry.

Severus wondered if things weren't working out for the best, actually. If Draco did tell the school about Harry's summer, then Harry wouldn't have to feel he had to put a facade anymore. It would take a certain stress off him. Severus understood that having his secrets violated like that represented a very strong threat to Harry's mental safety, but it also would mean that there would be no more acting and pretending. Harry could be who he was without fear of anyone. He believed that the news wouldn't meet with the reaction that Harry expected, at least not with most.

Of course, Skeeter was going to have a field day with this. And that actually was what Severus was the most anxious about.

"Are we going to go after another horcrux now?" Harry asked, sitting up, opening his eyes, and generally seeming more relaxed. Maybe that was only Severus' impression though, because that was how he hoped Harry would feel.

"Absolutely not," Severus said casually. Harry blinked at him.

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're taking a weekend away from Hogwarts," Severus informed him, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Just you and me, and we're going to have a good time, and forget about everything. We're going to forget about everything we've both been through, we're going to forget about this morning, and we're going to forget that I have papers to grade and you have studying to do. We're going to forget there's a Dark Lord, or that he has horcruxes, we're going to forget that we were hunting them, and we're going to even forget that we're wizards for the weekend. Is that acceptable with you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, smiling softly. "But why?"

"Because you need a break," Severus replied, standing up. "You've been too hard on yourself for too long. I'm going to show you how to have fun again." Severus reached out and held his hand open to help Harry to his feet. After a moment, Harry grasped it, and Severus pulled him up.

Severus had been unsure if the conversation had done any good. But judging by the firmness in Harry's clasp, Severus guessed that Harry was ready to give life another try.

.oO-Oo.

"Let me know if there's anything you see that you would like," Snape offered, as they walked along a sidewalk, not really going anywhere in particular.

"You don't have to get me anything," Harry replied, almost sounding offended. Snape really needed to go back to his sarcastic uncaring teacher mode, Harry thought.

"Of course I don't," Snape agreed. "Just let me know." Harry couldn't hold back a snort of amusement. Well, he'd gotten part of his wish, Harry noticed. Snape had just been sarcastic in the extreme. "Is there anything you'd like to do? Something you've always wanted to do?"

"I - yes, I guess," Harry shrugged, as he begin to find the shops on the other side of the street exceedingly interesting.

"And what is that?"

"I want to feed the birds," Harry said quietly. Snape paused for a moment, but then nodded thoughtfully.

"Alright, then feeding the birds it is," he replied.

Snape bought some bread, and they headed back to the park where they had been earlier that afternoon. Harry was surprised that Snape hadn't made some remark about the stupidity of his request. After all, it was simply feeding wild animals. Harry wasn't even sure why he wanted to do it, except there seemed something nice about the thought of a wild animal accepting food at his hands. There was some trust there, a trust which breached the boundaries of species, where the bird would decide to place its life in his hands. There was a beauty in that trust, and it would be sacrilegious for anyone to break that trust.

It was almost like the trust a child should have, Harry realized, a trust he'd never known.

The two of them found a bench in a quiet part of the park. Harry sat down first, not meeting Snape's eyes, ashamed of his realization, and feeling silly at his request. Snape seemed to either not notice or not be bothered by Harry's reaction though.

"Here," Snape said softly, handing him the bread. Harry accepted it, and tore off a small piece. He rolled it in his hands, making small crumbs, and then threw it on the ground in front of them. Harry began glancing expectantly at the trees.

"Just wait a few minutes," Snape advised. "The birds will be around soon." So Harry settled back on the bench and waited.

"What happens when we die?" Harry asked quietly.

"If I knew the answer, for sure, I would be a rich man," Snape replied, equally quietly. "I haven't died."

"Do you believe in an afterlife?"

"Yes," Snape said. "If there weren't, there would be so little justice in this world, it would be the emptiest excuse of a farce anyone could imagine."

"You don't deserve to rot in hell," Harry murmured after a moment. Snape laughed softly.

"I don't see what's so funny," Harry said. "Except we just proved there is an afterlife. The seventh layer of hell just froze over. Severus Snape, dark dungeon bat of Slytherin, just laughed!" Harry tried not to laugh too hard at his own joke, but it wasn't turning out that way. He began to laugh freely, and Snape looked on with apparent pleasure and approval.

Like Snape had predicted, the birds arrived shortly. First, just one bird, but then that one, upon seeing the food, flew away and brought back half a dozen others. Harry continued to toss the crumbs to them.

They continued to laugh and joke like nothing bad had ever happened, and for the first time in almost a year, Harry could have said he was happy.

.oO-Oo.

After feeding the birds, Severus took Harry to a small Middle Eastern diner. Harry had shown interest in various things of ethnic origin, not just the Chinese food earlier that day, but that had been what had brought it to Severus' attention.

A stranger may have looked on and seen a father, or some other relative, spending a Saturday with the child in his care, and seen a rather pleasant man, though definitely capable, and a carefree fifteen year old boy laughing, smiling, and having a good time. Severus could still the lingering haunted look in Harry's eyes. Every once in a while, Harry would laugh at one of Severus' well placed insults, and Severus would be pleased at how well Harry was doing, only for that laughter to be cut short. Harry would drop his eyes, clear his throat, and change the subject. Even when he was smiling, Severus could see the ghosts of the past pulling Harry into the pit of his sorrows.

Suddenly, Harry stopped cold, and Severus, who was still deep in thought, was unprepared for this and actually bumped into him. Harry stared into the sea of people and the boy's face paled with horror. Severus followed Harry's gaze, trying to find the cause of such a dramatic change. It had only been a moment ago Harry was laughing, and Severus had thought they'd made significant progress.

"We have to get out of here," Harry hissed urgently.

"What's wrong?" Severus replied. "What do you see?"

"We have to go, now."

"I want to know what's scaring you."

"I'm not scared!" Harry seemed to noticed the object of his apprehension coming closer and he scrambled to hide behind Severus. This did more harm than good, unfortunately, because a short, fat boy took notice of the sudden movement. A look of extreme discomfort crossed this strange boy's face, as he appeared to be thinking. He maneuvered his way through the crowd until he was much closer than Harry was comfortable with.

"Harry?" the boy finally said, and Harry sighed, but came out, slightly, from behind Severus.

"Dudley?"

"What are you doing in London?" Dudley asked, a sneer to match one of Severus' best splattered on his pudgy face.

"I'm just - doing things - with - with my dad," Harry stammered, and he looked up at Severus for help.

"What kind of things?" Dudley asked, the sneer widening. "The same kind of things you did with my dad?" Harry yelped and Severus pulled him close. A dark, murderous look crossed Severus face briefly, but he masked it by arching an eyebrow instead. If this one had been able to see the signs, then Severus highly doubted that Petunia had missed them. Dudley was far from what could be described as the brightest light bulb in the room. Perhaps Petunia had even been the one to tell Dudley. "And your real parents are dead."

"Who are you talking with, Dudikins?" the woman asked when she was reasonably close.

"Tuney Evans," Severus drawled with a particularly nasty expression on his face.

"Severus Snape?" she replied in disbelief.

"One and the same," he replied.

"Harry?" she asked, when she spotted a quick movement from behind the Severus.

"Leave me alone!" Harry shrieked, still pressing close to Severus. He stepped in front of the boy, unconsciously, protecting him from the perceived threat.

"You knew?" Severus growled.

"Knew what?" Petunia replied, the ignorance clear in her voice.

"You knew what your - husband - was doing to him?"

"Sir?" Harry squeaked, tugging at Severus' sleeve slightly. The look of worry was apparent on his face, even if Severus didn't see it at the moment. To an outsider, it looked like Harry knew Severus would overstep boundaries, and Harry wanted to prevent that more than he was scared of the situation. "It's fine. We can go now."

"Hush," Severus said absently, preoccupied by the woman standing before him.

"Please," Harry tried again but Severus didn't hear him.

"Do you take me for a fool, Snape?" Petunia replied, disdain dripping from her voice. "Of course I knew. My ex-husband was a perverted animal."

"One thing we can agree on," Severus drawled before he rushed at Petunia and pinned her to the nearby shop wall. The crowds parted at the sudden activity and began to watch, though Severus' voice was low enough no one but Petunia, Dudley and Harry could hear.

"If you knew, why didn't you stop it?" Severus hissed, his voice deadly. Harry caught that note in his voice, even if Petunia seemed to be ignoring it, and Dudley was too stupid to recognize it.

"Am I my brother's keeper?" Petunia replied.

"You did have a sister, in case you forgot," Severus snapped, "but you were Harry Potter's keeper."

"It's not problem," Petunia said, still not understanding just how close she was to death at the moment. "My ex-husband was not my problem, and neither was the whelp your kind left of my doorstep. If you cared about him, you would have shown up the night his parents died."

"No one," Severus said through clenched teeth, "hurts my son without answering to me. Not now." He glared at her, and Petunia finally realized what sort of a man she was dealing with. One who had very few, if any, inhibitions when goaded properly.

Severus felt someone touch him on his sleeve. He looked down.

"We can go now," Harry whispered, silently begging him to listen this time. Harry had asked him before to go, hadn't he? "Please, let's just go. It doesn't matter. Revenge is the stupidest reason to end up in Azkaban." Severus nodded at Harry's simple wisdom, and with great effort, released Petunia.

"What did happen to Vernon?" Petunia asked.

"He's dead," Severus replied. "He deserved everything he received."

"I thought your kind would do something like that," Petunia replied. "You'll train him to be a murderer just like the rest of you."

"Be grateful that your nephew has more foresight than I do," Severus hissed quietly, "or you would not live to see the dawn." Petunia just sneered at Severus, realizing she probably shouldn't endanger her life further. "Thank him!" Severus ordered when it was obvious that Petunia would not on her own. Carefully, Petunia weighed her options and seemed to make the decision that it was safer to appease the clearly insane person threatening her life than to hang on to her pride.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, but the words came out like they were foreign in her mouth. They were.

"You're welcome," Harry muttered, not looking at the woman. "I wish I could thank you for having saved me." By the end of his sentence, Harry had mustered the strength to look her in the eye, and the question "Why?" was acutely apparent in his gaze. For a moment, Severus thought Petunia was going to reply, but instead she clapped her mouth shut, took Dudley by the hand, and left without a word. Perhaps it was for the best that way.

.oO-Oo.

"The time grows late, and the crowd grows restless," Snape said, turning to Harry after his aunt and cousin had left. "I believe it is time for us to make our grand exit, before someone informs the authorities." Harry couldn't not smile at Snape's sudden turn from death threats to mock elegant poetry. On a silent agreement, the two left, unhindered by anyone who had seen the incident. It was truly remarkable how much the general population would let happen without interfering, always hoping that someone else would intervene.

"You weren't kidding when you said the time was growing late," Harry said, watching the setting sun from between two buildings. "It's beautiful." Harry pointed at the glowing orb as it grew big and orange.

"It is," Snape agreed quietly. They stood there, leaning against the shop's wall, watching the sun until it had completely dipped below the horizon, silently.

"I didn't know they knew," Harry whispered after the sun had left them in the twilight mist.

"If Petunia has the misfortune of meeting me again, she may not survive if you aren't along to restrain me," Snape replied. If his voice had been lighter, Harry would have thought he was joking, but after glancing at his face, which showed no sign of humor, and judging by the tone of his voice, Harry concluded that Snape was, in fact, very serious. Harry was both flattered and concerned about how Snape was protecting him. Flattered, because it meant that Snape cared about him. Concerned, because if Snape ever did follow through on his threats, Azkaban would be a few days away, and Harry would lose Snape forever.

"You can't do this," Harry then said.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't go around trying to kill everyone that hurts me."

"Oh?"

"There's better ways of handling it," Harry continued. "I mean, I'm grateful that you care, and it means a lot to me, that you care that much. But, if you really care, I don't think you should waste your life on something that shallow." Harry's voice dropped so quiet that he wasn't even sure Snape would hear him. "I wouldn't know what to do if you left me now."

"You're right," Snape sighed. "I'll try to keep my killing to a minimum then." Harry scoffed, but didn't laugh as he thought Snape was trying for.

"Shall we find a place to stay for the night, then?" Snape suggested.

"We're not going back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"What's Hogwarts?" Snape replied, arching an eyebrow. "I've heard of no such place. What is this Hogwarts of which you speak?" Harry may not have felt inclined to laugh at Snape's darker attempt at humor, but he began to laugh at this one. Snape looked extremely pleased with himself.

"Alright," Harry agreed. "Let's find a place to stay."

The two of them found a small motel nearby and rented a room for the night.

"I didn't pack anything for overnight," Harry brought up. He hadn't realized that they would be spending the night away from Hogwarts.

"Alright," Snape said, pulling out his wand descretely, and transfiguring some of the small motel amenities into pajamas for Harry.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, a sassy grin appearing on his face. "Sorry I made you forget you weren't a Muggle."

"Hmph," was Snape's only response, and he began to explore the room. Harry, though, quickly darted into the bathroom and took a shower. When he was finished, Harry left the bathroom, hair still damp and standing up in all directions.

"May I introduce you to the concept of a comb?" Severus asked, tossing one in Harry's direction. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered. "Sorry."

"It's not a problem," Snape nodded. "My turn." By the time Severus emerged from the bathroom, Harry was sound asleep on one of the beds. From all appearances, Harry had not yet had a nightmare.

Severus took out his wand again and whispered, "Finite incantem," taking down Harry's silencing spell.

.oO-Oo.

"Harry!" Severus called, grabbing Harry by the shoulder. "Wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

"Hmm?" Harry replied as his eyes fluttered open. "Oh." Harry looked abashed. "Sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry," Severus replied, taking a seat on his own bed.

"You found my spell," Harry muttered.

"Yes, I did," Severus replied. "There is no need to use that spell. It does you more harm than good."

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"I don't want to catch you using that spell again, or any spell like it. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said again. The boy sank back into a restful position, but turned away from Severus. So Severus got up and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm not angry with you," Severus whispered. "I just don't want to see you suffer with your nightmares the way I did." He wasn't sure Harry was aware of what he had said. Harry's breathing was calm and even, and there was no reaction.

.oO-Oo.

Snape walked with Harry early Sunday morning. Harry hadn't asked where they were going, and Snape hadn't volunteered anything, but judging by the man's movements, this wasn't just a simple stroll with no destination in mind. Finally, curiosity got the better of Harry.

"Where are we going?" he blurted.

"I want to show you something," Snape replied.

"What something?"

"St. Paul's Cathedral," Snape replied. "It's breathtaking."

"You're taking me to church?" Harry asked, his voice hushed.

"Well, if you don't want to - " Snape cut himself off. "I'm sorry, I should have asked you first. I did a little asking around, though, and I was told you went out of your way to be Anglican."

"I do," Harry explained. "It's just - no one ever tried to help me with that. No one's ever taken me to church."

"Then you can't say that anymore, after today," Snape replied.

"The Dursleys went. Sometimes," Harry continued. "But they never took me along."

"That doesn't surprise me," Snape replied.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I think they went just because it was what high class people were supposed to do. I don't think they actually believe it."

"There will always be that kind, no matter what, until the end of time," Snape said sadly. "How did you come by your interest?" Harry glanced away quickly, unsure of how Snape would react to the truth.

"Sirius," Harry finally said. "He said that my mum and dad went to an Anglican church. Sorry."

"I don't see what for," Snape replied. "Black isn't wrong about everything, much as it pains me to admit it." Harry snorted. "Ah, here we are." St. Paul's Cathedral appeared, in all its fine glory before them, and Harry caught his breath at the majesty of the ancient building.

"It is beautiful," Harry gasped. The bells began to toll.

"Then let's go in," Snape suggested. "Mass is about to begin." They climbed the steps, and Snape held the door for Harry, who looked around in awe. Snape led Harry to a pew in the middle of the church, and Mass began.

It had been a long time since Harry had set foot in a church, and he found he had missed it a lot. Harry smiled, and he felt happy. Come the time for consecration, the congregation knelt. Harry knelt with them. There had been no surprises so far, but Harry was shocked when Snape knelt next to him.

Snape knelt and rested his forehead against his fisted hands. He gave no indication that he noticed Harry staring at him for a moment. After the initial shock wore off, Harry again focused on the liturgy.

.oO-Oo.

Communion time came, and Severus stood. Harry hesitated for a moment, and his thoughts were plainly written on his face.

"You're not responsible for anyone's actions but your own," Severus whispered to him. Harry nodded and they received communion.

Severus risked a glance at Harry once they had returned to their pew. It was the first time in recent memory that Harry's eyes did not have the haunted look about them. Harry was truly happy, at least for the moment.

Severus was satisfied that this weekend had been a success.


	22. Well, Now They Know!

Harry wandered in Severus' chambers. They had returned late Sunday, too late for any of the students to have been out and about. Severus saw the relief on Harry's face when they had entered the school and found only a couple ghosts and portraits still watchful at the late hour.

"I don't want to go back to classes tomorrow," Harry objected.

"I understand," Severus replied.

"No, you don't," Harry replied bitterly. "I was happy. Malfoy will tell everyone. I just won't be able to take it."

"Harry, I'll be there to help you," Severus said. "And your friends, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, have declared their intentions as well."

"When everyone in the school knows, everyone outside the school will know too. The Daily Prophet will make sure of that. They won't even have to twist the story to get a good one this time."

"I don't want to give you false hope," Severus began, "but it might not be what you think. It won't be easy, and it will humiliating, but there still might be some good come from it."

"You think so?" Harry asked, though his voice betrayed the level of self-control he was exerting.

"Yes, I do," Severus replied.

"How would you like to have your secrets on the front page of the newspaper?" Harry whispered. "You would want to die of shame. You wouldn't want to let your class see you, and you wouldn't want to see your friends. Your class would know everything about you. They would laugh at you and make fun of you."

"As though they don't already," Severus drawled, but Harry wasn't about to be distracted.

"They wouldn't respect you. They'd mock you, and prank you. They'd think you were an easy target, knowing that you can't lash back. They'd know the sick twisted perversions you'd done. They would call you names in the hallways, names that you were called every night you had to do it."

"You're not talking about me," Severus said quietly. "You're talking about yourself."

"What will happen when they start taunting me? How will Ron and Hermione react? They'll be caught up in it too. What will happen when they begin whispering about how I wanted what my uncle did to me? What will happen when people start thinking I'm gay? I'm not. I don't want to be stereotyped like that. How long until there's rumors? I won't want to be around a lot of people. I'll want to spend time with Ron and Hermione by ourselves. Hermione might be safe from the rumors, but Ron won't. He's my best guy friend. How long until people start picking on him for spending time with me? What happens when they start talking about what we do when we're alone?"

"So you aren't worried about your friends' loyalties?"

"I won't want to expose them to that," Harry muttered. "Ron deserves better than to be reduced to the one who fucks the Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died."

"Language," Severus warned.

"Like you can talk," Harry sassed. "They can't be seen with me. I won't let Ron's chances at a girlfriend be ruined because he's too polite to ditch me."

"Harry," Severus admonished quietly, pulling the boy close, "Everything will be alright."

"I'm just so scared," Harry murmured into Severus' robes.

.oO-Oo.

Harry woke early Monday morning. He'd spent the night in Snape's chambers, in order to delay going back to dorm for as long as possible. His restless sleep hadn't done anything for his anxiety, and finally he gave up on trying to sleep anymore. Snape was already up, judging by the quiet clattering dishes.

"May I go to the Great Hall and eat now?" Harry asked, trying to avoid his classmates for as long as humanly possible. Severus paused at the question for a moment, but then realized that it was so early, none of the students would be there yet.

"And the next thing you'll want is to wear your cloak to classes," Snape replied. "I can't have you avoiding humanity forever, Harry. You'll eat with everyone else." Harry winced and sat down with a text book to read until it was time to eat. Snape laid a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Just let me know if you're having any problems with the other students. I'll see to it."

"Without killing them?" Harry almost laughed.

"Without killing them," Snape confirmed.

The time until they were to depart for the Great Hall sped by more quickly than Harry would have hoped. It seemed like only a few minutes and he and Snape were at the large doors.

"It would probably be better that we not be seen entering together," Snape advised. "I'll go in first, and after two or three minutes, you can come in. Is that acceptable with you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. So Snape opened the doors and entered the Great Hall, leaving Harry waiting outside until an inconspicuous amount of time had passed. Almost immediately after the doors had closed again, Harry heard a movement nearby. Upon looking up, he saw a familiar face.

"Draco," Harry said, letting his eyes rest on the floor.

"Potter," Draco replied.

"You've told, haven't you?" Harry whispered.

"You can find out for yourself when you go in," Draco observed. "You won't need my word."

"Why?" Harry asked, mustering the courage to look at Draco. His eyes spoke what his voice could not. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"Yes, Potter," Draco replied. "You should have accepted my offer to be friends back in our first year."

"I would never have done this to you," Harry pointed out.

"No, you would pity me," Draco agreed. "I would rather be sold out than pitied."

"You don't know that," Harry whispered, letting his gaze drop again as he leaned on the wall. "How many people know?"

"Well, it's a subject of utmost delicacy," Draco began, "so naturally the whole school knows." Harry closed his eyes and nodded.

"Just the school?"

"I have a letter for Skeeter right here," Draco said, pulling out a rolled parchment. Harry swallowed and bit his lip as he watched Draco put the parchment back in his bag.

"What can I do to convince you not to send that?" Harry shuddered.

"Nothing," Draco replied. "This is the final letter in a short correspondence with Skeeter. It's already been arranged that I have an interview with her." Harry nodded as rested the back of his head against the stone wall. Draco stepped close to Harry and leaned in to whisper something. "But you can convince me not to tell her about Snape." Harry felt a chill run down his spine.

"Snape?" he questioned, feigning ignorance.

"Yes, Snape," Draco said. "'You killed my parents and did worse to Snape.' That's what you said. I brought up that comment to my father. I'm not stupid, Potter. I can figure out what Snape and the Dark Lord were up to. Of course, I haven't said anything about this yet. I can be persuaded not to."

"What do you want from me?" Harry asked wearily.

"I owe someone a favor," Draco explained. "And you can pay it back for me."

"Is this a one time thing?" Harry asked, fearing what Draco was asking him to do.

"For my part it is," Draco shrugged. "I won't owe him anything anymore. What the two of you work out is your own business." Harry sighed. He was so tired. Tired of everything. Tired enough to lay down and sleep forever.

"And that will seal your lips forever?" Harry questioned. "You'll not tell about Snape? That secret will go with you to your grave?"

"You have my word, Potter," Draco said, without any hint of sarcasm. "Do we have a deal then?"

"Yeah," Harry whispered. "We have a deal."

"Good. I think it's past time for you to make your grand appearance." Draco darted off through the doors and to the Slytherin table as fast as he could walk and still retain any sense of dignity. Harry, on the other hand, placed his hand on the great wooden door, and breathed in deeply, steeling his will for what he knew would be a terrible experience.

He pushed the door open, and refused to look at anyone. He knew it was bad. When he pushed the door open, he heard everyone talking and chattering like they usually did. As soon as he was visible, everyone stopped. He knew they were all staring at him. He blushed a furious crimson as he walked to the Gryffindor table. Still without looking at anyone, Harry made his way to the spot where he, Hermione and Ron always sat. He risked glancing up at them across the table.

"Hey, guys," he muttered nervously.

"Hey," Ron replied almost equally nervously.

Then the whispering started, and Harry almost wished they would be silent again. He could hear things. He could hear what they were calling him, and what they were saying. He could hear Malfoy's name being repeated. "Malfoy says that Potter" was a phrase that stood out. Harry closed his eyes and tried to ignore it.

"We're so sorry, Harry," Hermione began. "We tried to stop the rumors. We told them Malfoy was just stringing together a tall tale that wasn't true at all. We even tried to start a few rumors about Malfoy to distract the school. None of it worked. We're sorry."

"That's alright," Harry dismissed, unable to eat any of the food on his plate. Instead, he just played with it. "I appreciate your efforts. What are people saying?"

"We don't know," Ron said. "No one will tell us. I guess we're too close to you for anyone to want to mention it."

"How are Neville and Luna taking it?"

"Luna's fine," Hermione said. "She doesn't believe a word of it. I don't think you'll have anything to worry about from her."

"And Neville?" Harry pressed.

"He's just confused," Ron explained. "I mean, he doesn't want to believe it. But he's been sticking up for you. You don't have to worry about him either. You have a lot of loyal friends. We won't abandon you just because Malfoy did the dirtiest thing ever."

"Not the dirtiest," Harry whispered so quietly that neither Ron nor Hermione heard. "I did that."

"You should eat something," Hermione pointed out.

"I can't," Harry protested. "How have the teachers reacted to this?"

"We don't know," Hermione shrugged sorrowfully. "It's been the weekend, and we haven't seen any of them. I'm sure Snape can set a few things right for you though, at least with the teachers."

"He will take your side, right?" Ron confirmed. "He's not going to protect Malfoy, will he?"

"He'll protect both of us if he can," Harry said. "I hope that he'll protect me over Malfoy though."

"He will," Hermione said. "You're his son. Just look at him now." She gestured with her eyes to the head table. "He's pretty upset, you can see that."

"I don't want to look, Hermione," Harry said, still not glancing up from the food he still hadn't touched.

"Fine, I'll tell you," Hermione pouted. "He's heatedly discussing something with the rest of the teachers. You can tell he's pretty ticked off. If I didn't have a good suspicion that the three of us were not the object of his anger, I would say today would be the perfect day to skip potions."

"You? Skip a class?" Harry snorted.

"If you would look at him, you would know why I wouldn't want to cross him at this point," Hermione admonished. Harry risked a glance at the head table, and saw just what Hermione had described. Snape looked furious and was hissing at the other teachers. Dumbledore was being unnaturally quiet, and when he looked over at Harry, Harry returned his gaze to his plate.

"It'll all be fine, Harry," Ron said, trying to sound encouraging. "Give it a couple weeks, and everyone will forget about it."

"No, they won't," Harry contradicted.

"Hey, you still have us," Ron continued.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," Harry said. "I don't think we should spend as much time together. People will start saying things about you. Especially you, Ron." For a moment, Ron looked horrified.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "People already make fun of me for my last name."

"It's not the same," Harry countered. "You can't change your last name. I'm sorry. I just don't think that I'll be a good friend for you anymore. Thanks for everything. You've been the best friends I could have ever asked for. Don't try to talk to me much though. I won't let you destroy yourselves for my sake."

And Harry got up, leaving his still full plate on the table, and left the Great Hall. As the door closed behind him, Harry heard an eruption of talk. It was undoubtedly about him.

He had known he'd lose his friends over this. Harry had never thought he would be the one to make that decision though.

.oO-Oo.

Classes were hell. Harry would walk into a room just in time to hear the talking completely stop. He would take his seat, without looking at anyone, and then class would start. He'd leave the moment "Class dismissed" was announced and hide until he had to leave to get to his next class.

Then there was potions, the last class of the day. In some ways, Harry feared this one a little less than the others. He could at least look at his professor without any fear of judgement. Still, when Snape had dismissed his class, Harry tried to run for the door.

"Please stay a moment, Mr. Potter," Snape casually said. Harry stopped and returned to stand in front of Snape's desk. Certain others in the class, including Draco, paused and appeared to be waiting to hear what Snape would say. Draco inconspicuously passed Harry a piece of folded parchment. Harry didn't react until Draco had left, but then opened it.

Wednesday, after last class period, girls' bathroom, second floor.

Harry felt sick, but knew he had to be there to do what Draco demanded, or Snape's secret would also be let out.

"Don't dawdle!" Snape hissed instead, and that convinced any of the other students to leave immediately. When the last student had left, Harry sighed and dropped his bag, leaning against the student desk in the front row.

"Yes, sir?" he asked.

"How are you doing?" Snape asked.

"How do you think?" Harry deflected.

"My thoughts on the matter are irrelevant," Snape continued. "I asked you a question."

"I'm okay," Harry shrugged.

"Then I'm gathering we have very different definitions of okay."

"What did the teachers say?"

"They asked a few questions," Snape admitted. "No one is critical of you."

"What did you tell them?"

"I told them that I had seen signs of abuse during our Occlumency lessons, and had acted upon that in adopting you," Snape explained. "Which, that is also common knowledge now. I said that at the time, I had had no idea of how far the abuse had gone and it was only after the adoption I found out. I admitted to having known for some time. I told them that they were to not discuss the topic with you under any circumstances."

"Alright," Harry said. "Thank you, sir."

"Harry?" Snape asked.

"Yes?"

"You can always come to my office if things get to be too much."

"Thank you, sir."


	23. The Shortest Distance Between Two Points

Harry spent the rest of the day laying on his bed, reading. At most, four other boys were allowed in the room. Ron wouldn't give him a hard time over anything, he knew, and, according to reports, neither would Neville. The worst case scenario was that he would have to deal with two boys who would. It was better than having to face a whole common room of Gryffindors, much less the whole school.

An indefinite amount of time later, when Harry was still alone, there was a hesitant knock at the door.

"Come in?" Harry replied, unsure what he was supposed to do. If it were one of his dorm mates, they should know they didn't have to knock. None of them knocked, since they all shared it. Ron opened the door and stepped in.

"Hey, Harry," Ron greeted him nervously.

"You know better than to knock," Harry snorted. Ron's mere presence took the edge off how morose he was.

"Yeah, well," Ron shrugged.

"I'm guessing you had a specific reason for coming if you were knocking?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, um, Snape wants Hermione and me to make sure you show up for supper," Ron said. "That was it."

"Oh, okay," Harry said. "I guess I'll have to."

"We're sorry," Ron whispered, as he turned to leave.

"For what?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"For not having been better friends," Ron explained.

"What are you talking about?" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I said you and Hermione were the best friends I could have asked for!"

"But apparently not good enough to keep us around," Ron commented.

"It's not like that!" Harry insisted. Ron just nodded once and left the dorm. Harry sighed, and rolled his eyes to heaven. How would he make his friends understand that this was for the best? For their protection?

Harry glanced at the time and realized that it wasn't almost time for supper, and if he didn't want to face Snape's wrath on top of everything else, he would have to suffer his way through another meal. He still wasn't hungry, even after skipping two meals that day. This had probably not escaped Snape's notice, Harry realized. Sometimes Harry wondered if Snape noticed everything. Well, he was a spy, so maybe it was just a side effect of that line of work. Snape was probably waiting to see what Harry would do at supper. Give him some time to adjust to the new situation before he began breathing down Harry's neck about eating. So Harry resolved to give it his best to eat.

He tried to slip unnoticed into the Great Hall. Needless to say, it failed miserably. Harry sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, as far away from the majority of his housemates, and also, as close to the door as he could get.

People were staring at him, whispering, and then staring again. Harry felt himself flush with shame. Some of these children had probably never even heard of some of the things that were now being discussed in the gossip mills of Hogwarts. Harry felt sorry for having to be the instrument of their - education.

A plate of food appeared before Harry, and he immediately jammed his fork into it before he lost his resolve to eat. As he lifted the first forkful to his mouth, he noticed someone sit down across from him.

"New regular spot at the table then?" Hermione asked. Ron wasn't with her. Harry just shrugged. Hermione sat down and began to eat. Harry tried to ignore her, so that he could focus on his own thoughts, which kept darting from what the school was currently thinking, to Draco's interview with Skeeter, to the deal with Draco.

"Snape sent you, didn't he?" Harry finally asked.

"No," Hermione said. "He just asked us to make sure you came for supper. You wouldn't have if he hadn't seen to it."

"You're probably right," Harry agreed.

"Harry, you can't mope like this for the rest of your life!" Hermione snapped.

"I'm not moping," Harry argued through clenched teeth.

"Then what are you doing?" Hermione challenged. "You're hiding away and you're not facing the reality that's there! You keeping off by yourself doesn't do anything to change reality. It only lets the poison of your own thoughts continue to lay hold of you." Harry sighed.

"Perhaps," Harry shrugged.

"Not perhaps," Hermione insisted. "It's true. I know you think you're doing the right thing by pushing everyone away, but it's not. We're not your enemies, Harry. Don't treat us like we are. We don't want to fight you to help you."

"You and Ron talked about this?" Harry guessed, as he swallowed another bite of food.

"Yeah," Hermione said. "We agree on this."

"Like I said, it's not as bad for you," Harry said. "Does Ron know what being seen with me will mean?"

"Yes, he does," Hermione confirmed.

"Are you sure?" Harry questioned.

"He knows people will talk about him," she said.

"Does he know what they'll say?" Harry pressed. "About - about us?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "We talked about that. Anyone who matters will know it's not true. Anyone who believes it doesn't really matter."

"Alright," Harry hesitated. "If you're sure you know what you're doing."

"We do," Hermione said flatly. Harry threw his fork on his plate and covered his face suddenly. "What's wrong?" Hermione shrieked, but not loud enough to be heard over the general clamor of the dinner hall. Harry didn't respond. Hermione stood and rounded the table quickly, pulling Harry up to face her. The other students had all gone silent when the noticed the disturbance.

"I don't deserve you," Harry said as he threw his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder, beginning to cry softly, heedless that the entire school was watching. Hermione returned his hug.

After a minute, Harry released Hermione, and it was only then that he noticed everyone, even the teachers, were watching him. Harry suddenly felt very awkward. He grabbed his bag and glanced at Hermione who was still standing next to him.

"I should go now," he muttered, as he darted off towards the door so strategically positioned.

Harry ran to the dorm and closed the door behind him. He quickly changed into nightclothes, leaped into bed, and pulled the covers over himself. He would feign sleep if anyone dared try to disturb him.

.oO-Oo.

Some time later, Harry realized he wasn't alone. He must have drifted off, and was awake now because there were others in the dorm with him. Judging from the voices, it was Dean, Seamus, and Neville. Ron was likely with Hermione, Harry concluded.

"Shh!" Neville hissed. "Keep it down. You'll wake Harry!"

"Harry who?" Seamus replied. Harry heard Neville kick Seamus, who yelped quietly.

"You stop that," Neville ordered. "We don't even know if Malfoy's story is true, and you're going to write Harry off over it?"

"I don't think Malfoy would tell a totally unsubstantiated story," Dean pitched it. "I mean, we do know that Harry attacked Malfoy in the bathroom."

"We know that Malfoy got injured somehow," Neville pointed out. "We have Malfoy's word for it that it was Harry. We have Malfoy's word for it what Harry's uncle did."

"But would Malfoy stick his neck out that far if it weren't true?" Dean asked. "If it weren't true, Malfoy wouldn't have made that big a claim. If it weren't true, Harry would have come out an denied it."

"Perhaps," Neville said after a minute. "It still doesn't change anything."

"It means my mum is going to have a fit," Seamus said. "If Harry attacked Malfoy, who's the next person he's going to attack? And even if it were rape, sometimes the victim becomes the assaulter. My mum might even make me leave, and I don't want that." Harry bit the inside of his cheek to both keep from shouting out that he wasn't dangerous and that he would be the last person to assault anyone, and to keep from sobbing that this was what his dorm mates thought of him. He wanted to rant and tirade that what happened late at night in Surrey wasn't his idea, that his uncle had made him do it every single time, and that he hated it. If this was what Dean and Seamus thought, what must the other people in the other houses think?

"Then your mum obviously doesn't know what's going on," Neville stated. "Heck, we don't know what's going on! Even if it's true, Snape is going to see to Harry. We don't have anything to worry about."

"Yeah, it seems a little bizarre, Snape having adopted Harry," Dean observed. "They hated each other. Everyone knew that. Why are they so friendly all of a sudden?"

"Is it our business?" Neville challenged. "Just leave Harry be. He's taking this whole thing pretty hard, I'm guessing, and you're not helping!"

"Don't come crying to us if he turns on you all of a sudden," Seamus said. "We've tried to tell you that he's dangerous."

"He's not!" Neville insisted, seeming close to tears himself. The other boys shrugged at each other. "Well, you can just leave him alone then. It doesn't do any good to provoke someone who's dangerous, does it?"

"Do what you want, Neville," Seamus said. "I just wish you'd stop sticking your head in the sand over it. Malfoy's story is true, and you need to accept that."

"Yeah, okay," Neville dismissed, "but it doesn't change that he's still Harry Potter."

"We're not stopping you from wasting your time on him," Dean pointed out. "Good night, Neville."

.oO-Oo.

Next morning, Harry waited till the other boys had left the dorm room before quickly dressing and trying to find the quietest path to the Great Hall. Harry tried not to listen to what people were saying when he did find a group of students nearby. He was afraid of what he would hear.

He was almost there. Almost to the Great Hall. He hadn't run away yet. He hadn't died of shame yet. All he would have to do was eat breakfast, ignore everyone, and then he would have to survive his classes. He could do this. All he had to do was ignore the others.

"Morning, Potter," Draco sneered, and Harry suddenly realized he was standing outside the Great Hall. Draco seemed to have been waiting for him. He was leaning against the wall, with his hands behind his back. "Have a good night last night?"

"I don't think you're really asking about my well-being," Harry muttered.

"Here, this is for you," Draco said, standing up, and handing Harry what he had behind his back. It was a newspaper. "Fresh this morning." Harry paled, guessing what it was, and nodded. Draco left, and Harry opened the paper to see what Draco's interview had to say. Harry's eyes fell on a picture of himself, perhaps a little old, from last year, and the headline accompanying it, displayed on the top half of the front page.

The Boy Who Knew Too Much?

By Rita Skeeter

It has come to the attention of the Daily Prophet that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, under the protection of Dumbledore, has suffered a mental breakdown within the walls of Hogwarts.

Draco Malfoy testifies that Mr. Potter attacked him in a forgotten bathroom Saturday morning, entirely unprovoked.

"Harry Potter's dangerous," the young Malfoy declared. "I had to spend the rest of the day in the infirmary to recover from the attack. He swore he was going to kill me."

But why has our hero broken now? Why didn't he come apart when he was eleven years old and first told of what happened on that tragic Halloween night? Mr. Malfoy has an insight.

"He was hallucinating," Mr. Malfoy explained. "He went bonkers and started attacking me. And he mentioned a few things too. He was begging his uncle to not to use him for sexual gratification."

I questioned Mr. Malfoy if he was certain of this.

"Oh, I'm quite certain," Mr. Malfoy replied. "Potter even promised that if his uncle would delay it till the next day, he would cooperate and do it willingly. Personally, I wouldn't feel safe with someone who would bargain sell himself like that, on top of hallucinations."

I asked Mr. Malfoy to further clarify.

"Well, isn't that was Potter was doing? Hallucinations come from reality, and if he promised his uncle that he would cooperate the following night, what is that besides selling himself? Perhaps not for money, but for time. It's time wizards realized that the Boy-Who-Lived, Dumbledore's Golden Boy, is nothing more than a common whore."

I pointed out that if Harry Potter was begging his uncle not to use him, wouldn't that still be classified as rape?

"I'm not convinced of this so-called rape," Mr. Malfoy declared. "He could have used magic to defend himself. Sure, he would have gotten in trouble for using underage magic, but it could have been easily rectified if he could show that his uncle truly was going to rape him. Maybe it wasn't his idea to begin with, but he also didn't do everything he could to stop it. It makes me wonder if this so-called rape didn't just become a convenient excuse to cover it up."

I questioned Mr. Malfoy on the strength of his words. He assured me anyone could have see that Harry Potter, over the course of the school year, had changed. He says that Mr. Potter is often by himself, or when he does allow anyone to approach him, it is Miss Hermione Granger and Mr. Ronald Weasley, his two closest friends. But Mr. Malfoy did have one more name he mentioned. Mr. Potter is often seen in the company of Severus Snape.

It was kept quiet by Dumbledore up until now, but according to official Ministry records, it is true that Severus Snape has adopted Harry Potter. Undoubtedly, this was a move on Dumbledore's part to keep Harry's psychotic breaks unknown to the world, so he could still present a whole and complete show piece, rather than the shadow of the boy we used to know and love so fondly.

Harry tried not to vomit in his mouth, and let the paper fall to the floor, through his numb fingers as he stared at the spot where it now rested. That wasn't how it happened! It hadn't even seriously crossed his mind to use magic against Vernon. If he used magic, he would be expelled from Hogwarts, he had thought. If he were expelled, then he wouldn't even have had that to look forward to.

Harry suddenly fled the vicinity of the Great Hall. He couldn't bear to show his face after that. The whole school would have read it - possibly even before he had. And if they hadn't read it yet, they would soon enough. Malfoy would see to that.

He was running wherever would get him away. Away from reality, away from the past, away from everything.

Suddenly he felt a strong hand reach out and grab him by the arm.

"And where do you think you're going, Mr. Snape?" a familiar voice drawled. Without even thinking about it, Harry reached out and clung to Snape, as he began to speak incoherently about the article.

.oO-Oo.

Severus had read the front headline of the Daily Prophet and groaned internally. Harry was going to fall apart over this, Severus knew, and he knew he'd have to find the boy, and soon. There was a good chance Harry had read the article already, and who knew what Harry was about to do over it.

Severus left his chambers and began to walk in the general direction of Gryffindor tower. It didn't take long, and he spotted Harry, clearly distraught, running through the halls. Severus reached out and grabbed hold of Harry.

"And where do you think you're going, Mr. Snape?" Harry's immediate reaction was to grab hold of him and begin jabbering something at him, though Severus couldn't understand. "Slow down, Harry," Severus advised softly. "I've read the paper."

"You have?" Harry asked, looking up at him, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Yes," Severus affirmed. "I was afraid this would happen."

"Please don't make me go back to the Hall," Harry begged.

"I won't, not this morning," Severus promised, knowing better than to push his luck with Harry. The newspaper article was as much as he could hope Harry would successfully deal with. "You can hide in my chambers till your first class."

"Thank you, sir," Harry muttered, as he looked at the floor.

The two of them walked back to Severus' chambers where the house elves presented them with breakfast. Severus sat across from Harry, sipping on some tea as he encouraged Harry to eat something, anything.

"How have you been doing?" Severus asked.

"Alright," Harry shrugged.

"Are you sure?" Severus pressed.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I saw your display with Miss Granger last night," Severus continued.

"Sorry about that," Harry apologized.

"What happened, if I may ask?"

"I - I told them that they shouldn't be seen with me anymore," Harry tried to explain.

"For the reasons you were explaining earlier?"

"Yes, and they're not listening."

"Good for them."

"You're not supposed to side with them!"

"You're not supposed to side against me." Severus smirked at Harry, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Fine," Harry muttered sullenly.

"I'm guessing the other students haven't been making it easy on you," Severus ventured.

"No, not exactly," Harry hesitated.

"I'm sorry about the article, Harry."

"That's alright," Harry shrugged. "It's not your fault. It could have been worse."

"How could it have been worse?" Severus asked, suddenly confused. There wasn't much the article had shied away from.

"I mean, it was just about me really."

"I still don't understand," Severus pressed.

"I mean that the article only had my secrets in it."

"That it didn't have mine?"

"Yes," Harry said, nodding.

"I appreciate your concern," Severus murmured. "But that isn't my biggest worry at the moment."

"Then what is?"

"You," Severus replied, arching an eyebrow. It was a little - no, a lot - painful to admit anything like that. "My biggest worry is getting you through this in one piece. I'll pay whatever price is necessary to do that. The only price I haven't paid yet is death."

"Don't you ever do that," Harry hissed standing up and narrowing his eyes. "Don't you ever die for me."

"If it will benefit you, I don't see why I shouldn't," Severus replied calmly. "Sit down." Harry complied.

"Because you don't deserve to have to do anything more for me," Harry muttered, looking away, apparently unable to look at Severus. "Because I don't want to be left alone."

"You're really afraid of that, aren't you?"

"Being left alone? Yes," Harry said.

"Yet you push your friends away," Severus pointed out. Harry simply shrugged. "Would you push me away, if I let you?"

"Perhaps," Harry shrugged again. "You would be safer that way. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Severus said quietly. "I was just curious."

"God, I hate myself," Harry sighed, as he rested his elbows on the table and covered his face. Severus silently rose and stood by the boy. He laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, trying to offer what little comfort he could.

"Harry," Severus murmured, but didn't say anything more. Words weren't enough to communicate what he felt. Harry began to rock and murmur softly. At first, Severus could make out the words, but eventually Harry's voice got loud enough that Severus could make out "Leave me alone."

"Leave me alone!" Harry screamed suddenly, gripping his hair by the roots and breathing heavily. "Go away. I'll just hurt you like I'll hurt everyone else."

"Something's wrong," Severus observed, unheeding of Harry's outburst. "What is it?"

"What's wrong?" Harry laughed. It almost scared Severus, Harry's laugh. It would have scared him, except that he knew the swirling mess of emotions Harry must be trying to sort through right now. "What's wrong? Everything! Everything in my whole life is wrong! And there's nothing you can do to fix it! The adoption was the worst day of my life! It's not up to you fix everything that goes wrong for me! Why can't you just go away?"

"Harry! Stop this right now!" Severus hissed. "I'll be there for you! I promise! I'm here to help you!"

"Like you were there for me when you had your finger inside me in Malfoy's dungeon," Harry muttered, almost too quiet to be heard. Severus wished he hadn't heard because he winced more visibly than he had in a long time. The words stung more than any torture he had been subjected to in recent memory.

"I'm sorry," Severus whispered, so softly that Harry barely heard it, pulling his hand away from Harry at the same time. "I wish I could make it up to you."

"Yeah?" Harry challenged. "I don't need you and I don't want you in my life!"

"Get out," Severus murmured, very quietly, his face hardened. "Get out! You can find your own way through your meals and classes then. No one is making you stay here. You want me to leave you alone? Fine. I'll leave you alone." His voice was calm, but Severus' mind was anything but. Malfoy's dungeon was the one thing that Severus wasn't ready to talk about yet. He thought they had gotten past it with the weekend, but apparently they hadn't.

"Fine," Harry replied and showed himself out of Severus' chambers.

Severus walked to a different part of his chambers. He sat behind his desk and leaned into the back in the chair, resting his head in his hand. He sighed, but his breath hitched as he did so. Severus swallowed, trying to not feel the waves of guilt that washed over him. It didn't work. He didn't move, except for the occasional shaking of his shoulders. He lost all track of time, lost in the torture of his memories.


	24. The Blind Leading the Blind

"What is the meaning of this?" Minerva asked, calmly, though her breathing was slightly faster than normal, as the held up a rolled paper.

"That," Severus replied, as he finished pouring her tea in his chambers, "is none of my concern." He took a small sip from his own cup as he settled into a chair. Minerva gasped and for a moment was silent. She had come to see him immediately after classes, and while he did not look forward to the inevitable conversation, he was not going to be a bad host and not offer her tea.

"What do you mean, none of your concern? This is Harry we're talking about."

"Don't mention him to me," Severus ordered suddenly.

"Severus!" Minerva barked. "What's gotten into you?"

"The boy doesn't want my help, and I can't blame him," Severus growled back, standing up and leaning his fist against the wall, his forehead on his fist.

"What happened?" Minerva asked quietly, stepping close to Severus, closer than he would have liked.

"I've hurt him, Minerva," Severus murmured, not moving.

"How?" she asked.

"I won't talk about it!" Severus whirled on her. "It's too humiliating," he continued, his voice growing quieter. "Too horrible. Too terrible."

"How can you stand back and let Harry go through this by himself?"

"You're his Head of House!" Severus threw back at her. "Why didn't you see the signs? Why don't you go deal with him?"

"You adopted him!" Minerva shouted back.

"Biggest mistake of my life!" he shot back.

"Bigger than this?" she replied grabbing his left arm and revealing the Dark Mark. For a moment, Severus looked horrified. Then he jerked his arm away from her and smoothed his sleeve over the offending tattoo.

"Not bigger than that," he murmured sorrowfully.

"When you and Harry left this past weekend," Minerva began, "and Draco Malfoy began the rumors, we dismissed them as non-sense. All the teachers did. The students were more than eager to bolster the gossip, and the stories got wilder and wilder. Then a few of the more thoughtful students began to discuss the possibility that Mr. Malfoy's story could be true and the evidence for and against it. The wild stories died, and the more rational voices took over. Still we refused to believe it. Finally, we couldn't deny it any longer. The story made sense. And the way you two left after that only confirmed it. As has been pointed out before, if it weren't true, you or Harry would have denied it. Your silence was your confirmation. Why won't you help him now?"

"Minerva, I can't help him," Severus sighed. "His problems are beyond what I can fix. Perhaps you, or someone else - "

"No, Severus, it has to be you," Minerva pressed.

"Why? Why do I have to do everything for him? How much of myself do I have to give?"

"You could have started by not hating him," Minerva pointed out.

"I never hated him," Severus muttered.

"You acted like it," she observed.

"I was having a really bad day, okay?" he shot back.

"You remember why you were so cruel to him?" Minerva asked, a little surprised.

"I remember almost everything," Severus said through clenched teeth, turning away again. "If only I could forget. If I could forget."

"Forget what?" Minerva whispered. "I've never seen you like this, Severus. Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright!" Severus shouted at her, and it almost seemed like they had returned several years, to when he was no more than a child himself, and he was arguing with his teacher. "What about this situation makes you think it might be alright?"

"Severus," Minerva tried again, this time laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me, woman!" Severus yelled as he flinched away.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Minerva said, her voice almost like that of someone trying to coax a dangerous or wounded animal out of hiding. "Why were you having a bad day that first class with Harry?"

"The meetings," he whispered, almost calmed by her tone. "You don't understand what I had to do at the meetings."

"You would have to torture people? Kill people?" Minerva guessed.

"No," Severus said. "If only it had been that simple."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, worry creeping into her voice.

"Don't make me talk about it," Severus pleaded as he leaned back against the wall. He ran his hands through his hair and gripped it, not unlike a certain Gryffindor had done earlier that day, and sank to the ground.

"Severus, you're scaring me!" Minerva exclaimed.

"Oh, God, no," Severus murmured, not looking at her, hands still in his hair, resting his forehead on his knees.

"Severus Snape, what's going on?" Minerva screamed at him, kneeling in front of him and grabbing him by his shoulders. He gasped and looked up at her.

"Well that hasn't happened in awhile," he snorted. He tried to stand up, but Minerva's hand on his knee stopped him momentarily. He froze and looked at her uncertainly.

"Contrary to what you seem to believe," she began, "I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were," Severus replied calmly.

"You've implied it," Minerva argued. "But I'm left to only guess what must have been happening, if you weren't torturing or killing people at those meetings and you and Harry had formed such a strong bond so quickly. Why didn't you tell Albus?"

"He knows," Severus muttered, turning his face away, shame overtaking him. Minerva just looked at him. "It had to be that way," Severus continued. "I condemned myself to it." Minerva stood up.

"I don't know whether you're the bravest or the stupidest man I've ever met," she said.

"Don't you dare imply I'm a Gryffindor on either count," Severus drawled, though his tone was weak.

"How could Albus make you continue to spy for him?"

"He didn't," Severus replied, standing up, as he paced the room a bit. "I said I condemned myself."

"I don't understand."

"You're not stupid, but there's a lot you don't understand," Severus sighed. "You don't know how much control he had over us." He braced his hands on his desk as he leaned over it. They were both silent for a moment.

"What happened between you and Harry?" she asked finally.

"I can't," he murmured.

"You wouldn't let Harry get away with an answer like that."

"In Malfoy's dungeon," he began, his voice thick and he felt like he was going to choke. He paused, trying to think of how to continue. Minerva didn't push him. "There was a ritual. An ancient ritual. To bring him back. They needed a vessel. Who better than the traitor? He possessed me. And he knew Harry's - past - from breaking my mind."

"You mean you - "

"Stop," he begged. "Don't say it. Not all the way, but far enough. I offered to leave him alone after that. He forgave me. He forgave me. And he brought it up today and then I sent him away. I'm so sorry."

"You need to talk to him," Minerva said.

"No," Severus replied.

"Whatever you do," Minerva said, perhaps a bit more coldly than she had intended, "don't condemn Harry to be the bitter and angry man you've become."

.oO-Oo.

Hagrid was a truly gentle giant, if there ever was one. He cared for all the animals and every form of life that ever needed his help. To think that Hagrid could ever have been cruel to anyone or anything - even 50 years ago - was unthinkable madness.

Sirius Black had never been close to the grounds keeper in his school days, nor in his adult life either. But that last encounter with the Death Eaters at Malfoy Mansion had not left him uninjured. No one was supposed to know he was at Hogwarts. The only one who did was Minerva. Sirius didn't want to see Madame Pomfrey. While he and Minerva were sure that she possessed the highest discretion, it would still be better to keep the people who knew of Sirius' whereabouts to a bare minimum - only her. So she had suggested that he simply maintain his animagus form, and let Hagrid treat him that way.

While Sirius had had some qualms about this initially, Minerva assured him that as far as treating animals went, Hagrid was the best of the best. Hagrid never questioned that a hurt, stray dog simply showed up at his door and stayed, never questioned that whenever Harry Potter's name was mentioned, the dog picked up his ears, seeming to listen intently.

Now that a little better than a week had passed, Sirius was doing much better. Hagrid let the dog outside his hut now, and Sirius was content to remain in his dog form, if only that it allowed him to be nearer to his godson.

Sirius had had plenty of time to reflect over the mess of the last few months, and how his actions had affected what was happening. He didn't like Snape. He never did, and he never would. But even Sirius had to admit that Snape had done right by Harry. Somehow, Snape had come to look out for Harry's best interests as well. Neither Sirius nor Minerva knew exactly what had happened to Snape and Harry that day, and both had agreed that they wouldn't ask. If either of them wished to tell, then they would. It was still obvious that whatever had happened, Snape had almost died, and Harry was distraught.

Sirius realized just how disappointed he had been to see Harry's reaction to the thought that Snape had died. He wanted to hold that position in Harry's heart. He wanted to look after his godson, and if the situation had been different, he would have been the one to adopt Harry.

But Harry had made his choice, and his choice was Snape, Sirius also realized. And if that was what Harry wanted, Sirius was not going to stand in the boy's way, not now.

Padfoot was wondering the grounds of Hogwarts that Wednesday morning. It was a pleasant sunny day and the black dog was enjoying the warm light on his dark coat. Padfoot had excellent hearing, and caught the low conversation of two girls nearby. Ordinarily, Padfoot wouldn't have cared what two students were discussing, but he'd heard the key phrase, "Harry Potter." So he crept close under a bush to listen to their conversation.

"You know, Draco Malfoy is being perfectly horrid to Potter," the Ravenclaw girl said.

"I know," the Slytherin girl sighed in return.

"Is there anything you can do to stop it?"

"Me? Stop Malfoy? You must be crazy. Malfoy won't stop for anyone. It's the right of a Malfoy, I suppose, to do whatever it is he wants, even if it's to totally destroy someone's life." The sarcasm in her voice was thick. The Ravenclaw snorted, the sarcasm not lost on her.

"Well you're in his house," the Ravenclaw pointed out.

"Which means he won't give me a hard time," the Slytherin replied. "It doesn't mean he'll listen to me. Do you always listen to your housemates?"

"No," the Ravenclaw agreed. "Still, it's terrible what Malfoy did."

"Do you believe Malfoy's story?" the Slytherin asked.

"You mean that Potter was raped by his uncle?" the Ravenclaw asked. "Yeah. It explains a lot. It's possible that Potter did attack him in the bathroom too. But none of that justifies Malfoy's noising it around the school, and then to the Daily Prophet besides."

"You're right, it doesn't," the Slytherin agreed. "I can't see Malfoy's other claims in the paper being true at all."

"What do you mean?" the Ravenclaw asked.

"That the accusation of rape was just a cover up," the Slytherin clarified. The dog in the bushes tried to restrain a low growl. "If the experience was traumatic enough to cause him to have a breakdown in the bathroom, then it could hardly have been something that he was okay with."

"That's what I was thinking," the Ravenclaw replied. "It's either one or the other. And judging by the fact that Potter has been acting strangely all year, I would be inclined to say that Malfoy is the one making stuff up."

"Seems so," the Slytherin said.

"Have you seen Potter since the article?" the Ravenclaw asked.

"No," the Slytherin replied.

"Do you think he's with Snape?"

"Not really. You saw how Snape was today. He was cruel to the Slytherins today too, if you didn't notice. He wouldn't even look at Malfoy, and he took points from everyone, even me."

"That's too bad," the Ravenclaw said. "Potter should have someone."

"Yeah," the Slytherin agreed quietly. The two girls seemed to take that as the end of that topic and moved on to other things which Padfoot wasn't interested in.

Padfoot bolted back to Hagrid's hut and begged to be allowed in the house. Of course Hagrid was more than agreeable to such a plan and allowed the black dog to rush in the house and lie down on the pile of old rags which was his bed. Padfoot looked up at Hagrid with mournful eyes and whined at him.

"What's wrong?" Hagrid asked. Padfoot just whined again. Hagrid got some meat and water and laid it out for Padfoot. Then Hagrid looked the dog over to make sure he wasn't wounded. When he found nothing physically wrong with the animal, Hagrid simply left Padfoot alone to recover from whatever was wrong. Padfoot just lay there for the rest of the school day, looking perfectly pitiful. In the back of head, Sirius knew he would have to talk to Snape before the day was over.

.oO-Oo.

The next day, Wednesday, after his classes were finished, Severus collapsed next to his bed. He'd only left his chambers to teach his classes, and even that, he had not wanted to do. He was still exhausted from the confrontation with Minerva the previous day.

"I can't do this. I can't do this," he murmured to himself, as he sank to the floor next to his bed, leaning against it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of potion and turned it over in his hand, feeling the pleasant coolness of the glass. It was a potion he'd brewed years ago, and carried with him wherever he went. It was impossible to foretell what he would need at a moment's notice as a spy and this was a potion that would kill him in five minutes or less. It was necessary as a spy to have some means of escape before he broke under torture.

It seemed a beautiful shade of yellow, he thought absently. He continued to turn the vial in his hand, fascinated by how the light glinted through it. He knew he wouldn't actually swallow the potion. He was just as scared of death as he was of life.

Was this how Harry felt right now?

There was a soft scratching at Severus' door.

"Leave me alone!" he almost wailed. The scratching continued. In his emotional delirium, Severus didn't even think to question why it was a scratching and not a knock. He stood, breathed deeply for a moment, and then when he thought he was composed enough, he answered the door.

A black streak darted past him, and Severus closed the door, momentarily distracted from his own problems. The black dog quickly transformed into Sirius Black.

"Severus, we need to talk," Sirius began.

"Then talk and get it over with," Severus snapped back at him.

"It's about Harry."

"What about him?"

"Have you seen him lately? He's not been on the grounds, and I've heard rumors."

"Rumors fly aplenty in the student body," Severus drawled. "You should know. You started enough of them."

"No, I mean there's rumors that Harry's not been with you either," Sirius tried to clarify, not rising to the bait Severus left for him.

"He has not," Severus replied, his tone as cold as ice.

"Why not?"

"That's none of your business."

"Harry loves you!" Sirius suddenly shouted.

"No, he doesn't," Severus said softly, turning away from Sirius, acting like the conversation was done. Sirius grabbed Severus by the front of his robes and slammed him into the wall. Sirius needed the other man's full and undivided attention. Severus almost looked scared. It reminded him too closely of the many times he'd been slammed into the wall, both by the very same person who stood in front of him, in school, many years ago, and worse, at Tom Riddle's hands.

"Don't you know how long he cried over your body in Malfoy's dungeon?"

"It doesn't matter," Severus replied. "He told me to leave him alone."

"To protect you, you idiot," Sirius replied.

"What do you mean?" Severus asked, confused.

"Isn't it obvious? The last two paragraphs in the Prophet. Skeeter is starting to drag you into this. Harry obvious doesn't want that. The more attention you get in the paper, the more you'll be a target for your associates, won't you?" Severus paled dramatically, beginning to make the connections that Sirius couldn't.

"I mean that the article only had my secrets in it."

"He needs you!" Sirius continued. "And you're botching the job right now. I don't know why on God's green earth he accepted you into his life, but if he did, you better hold up your end."

"Would you push me away, if I let you?"

"Perhaps. You would be safer that way. I'm sorry."

"Are you even listening to me?" Sirius shouted.

"I'll just hurt you like I'll hurt everyone else."

"He planned it. He planned it all," Severus growled to himself, emphasizing each word by banging his head against the wall behind him.

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, loosening his grip on his arch-nemesis.

"Nothing," Severus dismissed.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door.

"Hide yourself, mutt," Severus sneered as he went to answer the demanding knock that would quit. No sooner had he begun opening the door when two identical voices began to speak over each other.

"Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley," Severus addressed them.

"Can we come in? We need to talk to you," Fred, or maybe it was George, said.

"Can't it wait?"

"No!" they said together, and now that he thought about it, the two of them looked awfully upset about something. It was unlike the twins to bother him.

"Alright," he agreed. "Make it quick. I'm a busy man."

"We will," one of them promised. After he closed the door, they began to alternate telling him their reason for being there.

"Harry's in trouble -

" - he's in the girl's bathroom on the second floor - "

" - and, and - something's happening - "

" - you need to stop it - "

" - Malfoy's behind it - "

"Slow down," Severus asked, concerned the moment Draco's name was brought into it.

"There's no time," one of them said.

"What exactly is happening?" Severus asked.

"They - they're - "

" - taking advantage of him." Severus sucked in his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Leave," he said quietly. "I'll take care of it." The twins left without a second dismissal. Before they had even left, Severus was grabbing his wand.

"Stop," Sirius said, taking hold of Severus' wrist.

"Let me go," Severus growled, clearly restraining himself.

"I'll take care of it," Sirius said.

"No, you won't," Severus contracted. "He's my son, and this is my responsibility."

"I'm his godfather. Please, let me deal with them. You need to be there for Harry. I don't."

"Fine," Severus agreed. "I'll stay long enough to get Harry. Whoever is there is yours."


	25. Greater Love Hath No One

There. The deed was done. Unknown to Snape, Harry sank to the floor, leaning against his chamber door. His breath caught, but he didn't cry. He wouldn't cry. It was cruel, what he said to Snape, he knew. It was the cruelest thing he could think of. He needed Snape to stay away, and keep away forever. Harry had thought long and hard about this. If Draco was going to use Snape against him though, he needed to put distance between them. Even that one comfort, that there was an adult who cared about him, and had the ability to care for him, had been denied by the little prince of Slytherin.

Little did Snape know that his son sat outside his chambers, still trying to be close to him, and little did Harry know that his father was on the other side, feeling the guilt wash over him, knowing what a failure he had been with the boy.

After a few minutes, Harry collected himself and rose. He left Snape's chambers. Forever. He would never return, and he would never see Snape as anything outside of his potions teacher.

Once the deed with Malfoy was done, he wouldn't have to account for Snape anymore. He could return to being on his own again. Being alone. His last private act towards the man who had saved him was that of cruel love. He desperately wanted to run back and apologize to Snape, tell him he hadn't meant a word of it, tell him what Malfoy was doing, and tell him that he still loved him. Harry even turned and watched the door to Snape's chambers. If Snape had opened it at the moment and pursued him, Harry was sure he would have done just that. He almost expected the door to open and realized he was slightly disappointed when it didn't.

It didn't matter. Harry turned a cold shoulder and left the dungeons far behind him. What he had done, he did out of necessity. What he wanted didn't matter. It never mattered. He might be the Boy-Who-Lived, but that didn't mean that he got what he wanted.

He would always hold his memories with Snape - after the adoption of course - close, and they would be a source of comfort for him in future years. Presuming he lived that long.

.oO-Oo.

Wednesday after class. The girls' bathroom. Second floor.

To say that Harry was nervous would have been the understatement of the century. His heart rate was unnaturally fast and his breathing was quick and shallow. Sweat coated his hands and rubbed them on his robes. He stood in front of the bathroom entrance and glanced around. No one was near. That was good. As far as he knew, no one in the school had heard about this, and Harry wanted to keep it that way. He wasn't convinced Draco wouldn't say something, but there was at least some hope that Draco wouldn't want to admit that he owed someone anything or that he had arranged this via blackmail.

Harry stepped into the bathroom, and saw Draco and another boy there already. Harry avoided both their eyes and set his books down.

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy greeted him.

"Hello, Malfoy," Harry muttered in response. "Hello, Nott."

"You could have confirmed that it was the famous Harry Potter," Nott remarked to Malfoy. "I had guessed, if you remember."

"What you do is your own business," Malfoy mumbled, suddenly not able to look at either Nott or Harry. It occurred to Harry that Malfoy was having second thoughts about putting him in this situation, but if Malfoy truly regretted it, he could always have called it off last minute. He began to prepare to leave.

"Malfoy?" Harry said quietly while the blond boy walked towards him. When Malfoy didn't acknowledge him, Harry put his hand out to intercept Malfoy's shoulder. That caused him to stop and meet Harry's eyes.

"Yes?" Malfoy replied, equally quietly.

"I'm going to tell you now that I forgive you," Harry said. "In case I go insane between now and the next time I see you. I hope you know what it feels like someday though, what you're putting me through. Not because I want to see you hurt like this, but because - because I want you not to do it again." For a moment, Malfoy looked as though Harry had just slapped him. Then his expression hardened, though Harry wondered if there wasn't a sort of sorrow in his eyes, (maybe it was just wishful thinking?) and Malfoy nodded once at him and stalked past.

"I'll wait outside, Nott," Malfoy said though he didn't turn back. "You won't be disturbed." And with that, Malfoy left the bathroom. Harry turned his gaze towards Nott, but quickly glanced away. Nott stepped close and Harry backed up until he was against the wall.

"Just - just get it over with," Harry whispered, almost too quiet for Nott to hear. "What do you want me to do?"

"Take off your robe," he instructed. Harry nodded and shed the wizarding garb, leaving him in a t-shirt and slacks. Nott did the same. Then Nott undid his belt buckle and fly. Harry didn't move, but looked at Nott fearfully. Carefully, gently, Nott took Harry's hands in his own and looked carefully at them.

"They're soft," Nott observed. "You wash them a lot?"

"More than you know," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Thought so," Nott said, as he brought Harry's hands to the top of his pants, and shoved Harry's fingertips in. Harry didn't have to be told twice. In went his hands. This was for Snape. It was to protect Snape. Harry kept repeating that in his head as he touched Nott. Nott moaned and braced himself against the wall, his eyes having rolled back.

"Good, good job," he murmured, even as Harry tried not to make a face. "Your uncle trained you well." Harry let out a quiet hiss, but didn't reply. He didn't want to give Nott any reason to say the debt wasn't fully paid with one episode of this. Nott leaned his head forward and pressed his lips close to Harry's. He didn't quite kiss Harry, just brushed his lips close. Harry didn't react one way or another. He might be at Nott's disposal but he wasn't going to encourage anything. Harry prayed Nott wouldn't ask him to do anything more than a hand job.

"Aw, Potter, you don't look like you're having a good time," Nott pouted suddenly, forcing his eyes to focus on Harry.

"That's not why I'm here," Harry said, his voice strained. Nott took Harry's hands out of his shorts, for which Harry was grateful. Harry put the soiled appendages behind him and watched the tip of trainer as he felt his cheeks flame crimson with shame. It was for Snape. It would all be over soon, and Snape would be safe.

"Well, I'm sure you'd feel cheated if I got off without you," Nott leered at him.

"Don't bother," Harry shrugged.

"You volunteered to pay Malfoy's debt though," Nott whispered, leaning close again, undoing Harry's trousers.

"I did not!" Harry objected.

"Then why are you here?" Nott asked.

"What's between Malfoy and me is none of your business," Harry answered. Nott shoved his hands in Harry's pants.

"Touch me again, Potter," Nott instructed. Harry did as instructed. It was for Snape. Harry whimpered as Nott's hand caressed him.

"Please don't touch me," Harry begged.

"I'll do with you what I like," Nott shot back. Harry nodded, but didn't say anything as he felt Nott's hands slip around to his backside.

"Don't," Harry whimpered after a few moments of feeling Nott's fingers prod him. "Please stop. Please."

"Draco said I would love to hear you beg," Nott purred. "I'm not sure which is better, your hands or your voice." Harry felt like gagging. It was for Snape. Nott turned Harry to face the wall, and shifted Harry's trousers down.

"Stop, please," Harry whispered.

"Just pretend I'm your uncle, Potter," Nott replied. "Remember you wanted it from him."

"No, I didn't!" Harry cried aloud as Nott began to insert himself. "Stop! Leave me alone! I'm sorry, just don't touch me!"

"Hush, Potter," Nott rebuked him. "I'm not even doing it like a Death Eater." Nott reached around to Harry's front and pinched his throbbing member.

"What are you doing?" Harry shrieked, becoming more and more panicked.

"I like hearing you beg," Nott smirked in his ear. "You'll beg me for your release before I'm through with you, and you'll know just what you are."

"I won't beg," Harry argued, his teeth clenched.

"Oh, yes you will," Nott contradicted. Harry didn't argue further. At some level, he knew Nott was right. He would beg. He would beg and writhe, and he would hate himself.

It was for Snape.

Silent tears ran down Harry's cheeks as he prayed that this would be over soon. Nott slammed into him as he continued to caress him with his unoccupied hand, and Harry whimpered.

"Ready to beg yet?" Nott asked.

"Never," Harry whispered, though he shuddered and his tone belied how much control he was exerting on himself. A few more thrusts and Nott climaxed and came.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Harry screamed, desperate beyond anything he remembered. He couldn't think. There was only one thing he could remember, that all of this was for Snape. He had to do everything Nott wanted to protect Snape's secret. "Let me go! Please, I'm begging you, let me come!"

"Really, now," Nott drawled, as he squatted, and Harry sank to the ground and convulse for the agony he was in.

"Please, please," Harry begged through his tears.

"So this is what the Boy-Who-Lived has become then," Nott continued, "reduced to begging for his carnal pleasures."

"Shut up!" Harry screamed.

"Tut, tut," Nott clicked. "You realize I can hold you like this for hours, don't you? I can keep you aroused until you go insane from it all."

"Already there," Harry muttered through his teeth. "Please, just let me go. You've had your fun. I held my part of the bargain." Nott just continued to look at him. "I don't know what you want from me!" Harry finally screamed. "I've pleasured you, I've begged you, I've humiliated myself in every way possible. What more do you want?"

"Admit what you are," Nott demanded. So he wanted every last shard of dignity. It was for Snape. It didn't matter.

"Fine, I'm a whore," Harry muttered, and Nott released him. Harry whimpered, but quickly pulled his trousers up, before sitting in the corner of the bathroom with his knees pulled up, resting his head on his arms as he began to cry.

"What's the meaning of this?" a new voice demanded.

.oO-Oo.

Fred and George sauntered down the hallway. They were testing out a new item for their joke shop - an invisibility potion. They couldn't see each other, but they could see the vague outline of the other, something like the crinkled look objects took on through the rising air of a candle. Perhaps not true invisibility, but close enough for a joke shop.

They saw Draco sitting outside the girls' bathroom reading. Upon a consent that was simply the result of being able to read each others' minds rather than any actual communication, Fred and George stood on either side of Draco, who seemed to have tuned out the rest of the world.

George reached out and pulled the book away from Draco, dangling it in the air just beyond his reach. Draco gasped and looked up. He saw the crinkled form, but didn't know what to make of it.

"Don't hurt me," Draco hissed softly, terrified of this unknown threat. He stood up and then noticed there was another on the other side of him.

"We're ghosts," Geroge whispered in the creepiest voice he could muster. "James and Lily Potter," he continued. "Come back to haunt you, for what you did to Harry."

"What?" Draco squeaked, trying to press himself into the wall. "I'm sorry!"

"Are you?" George continued. Thankfully Fred realized he should keep quiet, since he couldn't do a convincing female voice. At that point, they heard Harry's frantic voice from inside the bathroom, begging someone to leave him alone. Fred quietly slipped into the bathroom. "Are you sorry you did it, or are you sorry you've been caught?"

"Both!" Draco replied, the panic raising in his voice. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Give us one good reason why we shouldn't," he said, placing his mostly invisible hand on Draco's throat.

"I can't!" Draco said. The fearful expression on Draco's face faded. His usual sneer came back and he visibly relaxed. George looked at his arm and saw that he was perfectly visible.

He swore. Fred rushed out of the bathroom, also visible, with a truly horrified expression on his face. That was all the confirmation George needed.

"What have you done, Malfoy?" George hissed. "Dragging Harry's name through the mud wasn't enough for you?"

"If you get any grand notions of saving him," Draco replied calmly, "I can always - inform - certain authorities about how you've been testing your products for your joke shop on minors, without parental consent."

"Fine," Fred said. "Fine. Have it your way." George looked confused for a moment, but decided to trust his brother. "We can't afford to get into that kind of trouble," Fred continued to George. "It would kill mother." George simply nodded.

"I hope you sleep well tonight," George hissed to Draco before they departed. When they rounded the corner, George began to let out a tirade of words.

"What was that all about?" George asked.

"We're going to Snape, now," Fred explained as he grabbed his brother's wrist and pulled him along. "That was just a line to convince Malfoy we were going to bend to him. If he splits before Snape gets there, it might end up as our word against his that he was involved. There's not much we can do to stop it in the meantime."

"Thinking ahead, dear brother," George said. "This has always been your weakness."

"What do you mean?" Fred replied.

"You could have ended up in Slytherin."

.oO-Oo.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Harry's head shot up and his only thought was "Oh, crap." Snape and Sirius were both there. Harry marveled that the two of them weren't attacking each other at the moment. The shock of seeing both of them was enough that Harry was not inclined to cry at the moment. Nott looked horrified at seeing his Head of House and a convicted murderer standing in front of them.

"Perhaps you would like to explain," Snape continued pulling another figure from the shadows behind him.

"Ow, ow, leggo," Draco whined, as Snape pulled him by the ear and shoved him over close to Nott.

"Harry, come over here," Snape demanded curtly. Harry was terrified. How much trouble would he be in? It had all been for Snape, and he highly doubted that Snape would understand that. Harry shook his head, he let his head fall against the wall behind him in silent despair as his shoulders began to shake again and fresh tears rolled down his face.

"Harry, I need you to come now," Snape tried again, his voice sterner, but still gentle at some level. Slowly and painfully, Harry stood, figuring it would be better to do as Snape wanted than to make the man angrier at him. He was shaking, visibly, he knew, but he couldn't stop it. "It's alright," Snape then said, softer. "I'm here for you, Harry. You're my son now and nothing can change that." Harry stood a couple feet from the man, glancing at Sirius. Harry held his hands behind his back and looked at the ground.

Snape reached out and moved Harry around behind the too of them, a very protective gesture.

"I'm sorry," Harry began, his voice sounding odd to his own ears, but Snape hushed him and drew his wand, pointing it at Malfoy and Nott alternatively. "Sirius, why are you here?" Harry then asked.

"Take Harry and get out of here," Sirius said to Snape, ignoring Harry's question. "I've got this." Snape didn't reply, but the two of them made eye contact for a moment. Harry wondered if Snape had brushed Sirius' mind to say something that no one else would hear.

"You're not going to leave us with a murderer!" Draco shrieked suddenly. Snape simply looked at Malfoy with an expression that read "Try me." Then he turned, took Harry by the shoulder, and the two of them left the bathroom. No sooner had they left, then Harry and Snape both heard the distinct sound of growling. Snape looked down at Harry and seemed nervous, if Snape ever seemed nervous. Snape quickly dropped his gaze and shifted his weight. Without even stopping to think, Harry threw his arms around Snape and began to sob and speak almost incoherently.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Harry repeated over and over. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. What happened in Malfoy's dungeon wasn't your fault at all. You're always there to save me from my mistakes. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Don't leave me alone, don't leave me, please. I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I'm sorry, don't leave, don't."

"Everything will be alright," Snape assured him once his stream of words and tears had calmed a bit. "We need to leave here."

"I'm sorry," Harry sobbed once more for good measure, but still didn't let go of Snape. Snape sighed.

"Harry, we need to go." Snape drew his wand and cast a disillusion charm on the two of them. Harry kept sobbing though, and he didn't seem able to gain control of himself. In the vague recesses of his mind, he thought he heard Snape say "You're hyperventilating. Calm down," but it was too late. His vision tunneled, and he collapsed in Snape's arms.

.oO-Oo.

Severus caught Harry easily. Too easily. He would have to see to it that the boy ate more on a regular basis, but that would be another worry for another time. Right now, he just wanted to get Harry away from what havoc Black would reek in the bathroom. Severus wasn't sure what Black was planning; he wasn't sure he wanted to know what Black was planning. The less he knew, the less culpable he would be. He certainly wasn't going to step in to save the two poor excuses of human beings who now had to face Black's protective rage.

Severus shifted Harry, the easier to carry him, with one arm under his knees, the other supporting his shoulders, and carried Harry's limp form to his chambers. He spelled his door open and then kicked it closed behind them. Severus laid Harry out on his couch and sat near by, with a calming potion ready, waiting for when Harry would com around.

He didn't have to wait long. Not five minutes later, Harry's eyes fluttered open, and he moaned painfully. Severus was at his side with the potion in a moment, kneeling on one knee next to the couch.

"Here, drink this," Severus murmured. Harry tried to sit up on his elbows, and took the potion and drank it in one swallow.

"What was that?" Harry asked, his words slightly slurred.

"Calming potion," Severus replied.

"Professor," Harry began, sounding nervous.

"Stop," Severus cut him off. Harry obliged. "I think it's time for my own apology."

"Your - ?"

"Yes, for being absolutely blind to all the hints you left me," Severus continued. "And for not convincing you sooner that it is not your responsibility to protect me."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, feigning his ignorance.

"You are actually not stupid," Snape began.

"Will wonders never cease," Harry muttered. Severus heard it, but let the comment pass.

"And you know what I'm talking about. You must have said enough last Saturday that Draco could put my secrets together, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered, dropping his gaze. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't," Severus replied. "Just like I didn't mean to tell the Dark Lord when he broke my mind. The two are not so different. Draco, on the other hand, decided to blackmail you, didn't he?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered again.

"You shouldn't have gone along with it."

"What do you mean?" Harry gasped, swinging his legs off the couch, sitting up.

"You should have let him do what he would."

"But - but - you - your secrets - everything - everyone - "

"Your judgment is abysmal," Severus continued. "The worst that happens if society finds out my secrets are that I feel bad for awhile. Your going to lose your sanity or your life, or both, trying to protect me." Harry bit his lip and nodded, looking away. Severus sighed and sat down on the couch next to Harry, putting his arm around the boy.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Harry repeated. "I'm sorry." Severus sighed again.

"It's alright, Harry," Severus said, holding Harry closely. Harry lost it and began to cry, continuing to repeat how sorry he was, as he hid his face in Severus' shoulder. Severus leaned his cheek on Harry's mop of hair, hoping it would be a comforting gesture. "It will be alright," Severus murmured. It spoke something about how stressed Harry was that he was still crying even after the calming potion had taken effect. "You're safe. No one will harm you here."

"I'm sorry," Harry sobbed once more.

"I know you are," Severus said patiently.

"You haven't forgiven me yet. Please forgive me," Harry finally begged.

"You're forgiven, Harry," Severus said. "There's very little to forgive. How are you doing?"

"Fine," Harry muttered, trying to wipe his tears and Severus loosened his grip.

"Now the honest answer," Severus prompted.

"Terrible," Harry admitted.

"I'm guessing it was Nott?" Severus asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, his voice tight, nodding slightly.

"I don't know what to do with you," Severus finally sighed.

"I'm sorry." Severus rolled his eyes. "Sorry," Harry muttered again. "I keep trying to get it together and it never happens. I don't know how you do it. You deal with it so much better than I do."

"I told you," Severus began, "I know how to act. I don't know how to cope though. You see an act."

"Then teach me how to act," Harry requested.

"No," Severus said. "It will hurt you in the long run." Severus dropped his gaze.

"How?" Harry demanded.

"You'll need crutches," Severus began. "Emotional crutches. Remember you were acting at the beginning of the school year. Your crutch was your dreamless sleep. When I took the crutch, you couldn't act anymore, and you've been forced to face what happened."

"Then teach me how to cope."

"I can't teach you something I don't know," Severus said sadly. "I know you need crutches to act. I don't want you to become like me."

"Then if you need crutches to act, and you're acting, what's your crutch?" Harry asked quietly. Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial of yellow liquid. He handed it to Harry, who took it and looked confused. "What is it?"

"It's a potion," Severus began. "It kills you in five minutes or less. As a spy I had to carry it. In case something went horribly wrong, I needed to be able to escape. It's also been a comfort of a sort, knowing that I can escape at any moment."

"What are you saying?" Harry hissed.

"I thought you would understand," Severus said as he swallowed hard and put the potion back in his pocket. He'd thought that Harry would understand the feeling of hopeless emptiness. Harry threw his arms around Severus.

"I do understand," Harry murmured. "I didn't know you understood."

"Of course I do," Severus whispered back, as he gently returned Harry to a normal sitting position.

"Please don't ever use that potion," Harry pleaded. "You don't have to spy anymore and - and if you did use it - "

"I won't," Severus assured him, breaking the grip Harry had on him. "I'm too scared of Death to want to meet him early."

"How close have you come to using it?" Harry asked quietly.

"Today," Snape admitted after a moment's hesitation. "It looked very tempting. Your dogfather made a convenient visit at that moment."

"I'm sorry," Harry said again. "I never meant to hurt you that much."

"I know," Severus replied quietly. "How far did it go?"

"All the way," Harry muttered. Severus just nodded and draped his arm around Harry again.

"I'm the one who should be saying I'm sorry," Severus finally said. "I wish I had gotten there sooner."

"Not your fault," Harry mumbled as he shrugged.

"But don't you see it is?" Severus insisted. "I'm the one supposed to look after you and I haven't! Everything that happens to you on my watch is my fault!"

"Can we just pretend this whole thing never happened?" Harry suggested. "The weekend was wonderful."

"It was," Severus agreed. "Will your subconscious pretend this whole thing never happened?"

"No," Harry whispered.

"You need to stop putting yourself in danger," Severus began. "Once and for all, let me be the adult here. It will go a long way, I think, if you simply allow yourself to heal. You keep reopening old wounds, and creating new ones, before you've had a chance to recover. I want to help you, Harry, but every time we make any progress, something happens to undo it all."

"I know," Harry said, looking at the floor as he nervous kicked at nonexistent dirt. "I'm sorry."

"Shh," Severus hushed him, as he ran his fingers through the boy's hair. "Harry, I need your word," he began, "that you will respect yourself as much as you respect others. Will you give that to me? Your word?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

"Good," Severus approved. "And I expect you to live like it too."

"Yes, sir," Harry repeated. "Are - are you mad at me?"

"No," Severus said after a moment. He couldn't say he was truly angry with Harry. The boy had acted out of what he thought was the best choice. It clearly wasn't, but that didn't change Harry's intentions. Severus couldn't very well be angry with someone who had paid the highest price to protect him. "But I am exasperated."

"You know I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Severus asked. "Why did you think my reputation was more important than your safety in the first place?"

"I've already lost everything," Harry muttered, and the despair in his voice was apparent. "I didn't want to see it happen to you too."

"I see," Severus replied. Harry leaned against him and closed his eyes. He was clearly exhausted. Severus didn't object. In fact, he felt almost proud that Harry could fall asleep against him like that. "You still have your friends. You still have your pitiful excuse for a father."

"Don't say that," Harry mumbled. "What more could I have asked for from you?"

"A decent last few years, for one," Severus pointed out.

"Mmmm," Harry sighed, as he neared a sleeping state. Severus sat with his arm still draped around Harry, as the boy's breathing evened out. They would talk more about what had happened that afternoon later. Severus' grading could wait. His lesson planning could wait. Sitting with Harry at the moment was the most important thing Severus had to do at the moment.


	26. Requiescat in Pace

Severus didn't move, letting Harry sleep. With his arm still draped around Harry's shoulders, the scene looked very peaceful. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and everything was silent except for that and their soft breathing.

Harry suddenly stiffened and whimpered. Severus recognized it for what it was - a nightmare. Shifting Harry so that he could place both his hands on Harry's shoulders, he shook Harry gently.

"Wake up," he called softly. "Harry, wake up." Suddenly Harry's eyes snapped open, a look of pure horror on his face. Then the boy sighed and relaxed a bit.

"Sorry," he mumbled, as Severus released him, and Harry sank back into the couch.

"It's alright," Severus assured him. They were quiet for a moment. "What was it about?"

"Nott," Harry muttered, looking away. Harry's ears had turned red, and Severus could imagine the self-recrimination going through Harry's mind. Severus nodded, no words coming to mind quickly for him to say. "It's alright," Harry continued. "I brought that one on myself."

"That's not true," Severus contradicted.

"Yeah, it is," Harry argued, narrowing his eyes. "I consented this time."

"Did you?" Severus asked. "I was under the distinct impression that you were sitting in the corner, crying, when I found you."

"Yes, but I still agreed," Harry pointed out. "I showed up, and I didn't fight. Oh, God," he whispered, pulling his feet up on the couch and covering his face with his hands, as he began to rock slightly.

"Because you were under duress," Severus continued. Harry didn't react, except to gasp and wrap his arms around his torso.

"What does that matter?" Harry hiccuped. "I didn't fight, and I didn't try to stop him."

"It's not your responsibility to stop him," Severus murmured, putting his arm around Harry again.

"Don't touch me!" Harry shrieked suddenly, scrambling away from Severus till he sat on the far end of the couch.

"Alright," Severus agreed calmly.

"Malfoy was right," Harry whispered, almost to himself.

"And what was he right about?" Severus pressed. Harry didn't answer right away, and Severus didn't repeat his question or push Harry, but he continued to wait for his answer.

"I'm a truly disgusting person," Harry finally muttered, trying to stand up.

"Stay right there," Severus ordered. Harry hesitated a moment, then sat back down, closer to Severus this time. "Care to elaborate on that last comment?"

"No, sir," Harry replied, staring off into the fire. Severus doubted that Harry actually saw the flames. He wondered what Harry was really seeing.

"You are most certainly not a disgusting person, and there was exceedingly little that Draco was right about," Severus said. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry sighed, shaking his head.

"Harry," Severus murmured, turning towards Harry on the couch and pulling the boy close, almost into his lap, and wrapped both arms around him. "You need to talk about it. It's like pulling poison from a wound. It's not pleasant, but it's necessary unless you want it to be harder later."

"Why?" Harry suddenly scoffed. "It's not like it was even rape." Severus lifted an eyebrow, surprised that Harry was able to use the word.

"And what is the definition of rape?"

"Being forced…" Harry's voice trailed off.

"Did you seek Draco and Theodore out?"

"No, sir."

"Was it your idea?"

"No!"

"At any point, did you ask him to stop?"

"Yes, sir."

"What about this doesn't sound like force to you?"

"It - it's not that simple," Harry swallowed.

"Oh?" Severus challenged. "And why not?" Harry looked away, still curled up close to Severus.

"It's so embarrassing," Harry whispered.

"It's alright," Severus comforted him. "I think we know any number of embarrassing things about each other. You can tell me. I won't tell anyone."

"I know, I know," Harry repeated. "I just don't want to say it."

"Because then you make it real, I understand," Severus whispered, resting his chin on Harry's head. Harry nodded quickly.

"Nott - " Harry began. "He - he made me beg." Severus didn't say anything, waiting for Harry to continue, but instead, Harry threw his arms around Severus and sobbed into his robes. "It hurt so much. I didn't want to. I tried not to. It hurt so much though, and I begged him for my release. I wanted it. I wanted it." Severus sighed, and looked up to whatever powers in heaven may or may not have been looking down at them. He was already holding Harry, but he pulled the boy firmly to himself, firmly enough to hopefully make Harry feel safe. Harry gripped his robes and cried freely.

"I'm sorry," Severus whispered.

"Malfoy was right," Harry said through his tears. "I'm nothing but a whore."

"Now you're as wrong as Draco is," Severus replied, rocking Harry a bit. "Don't think that. Theodore was using your body against you. It has nothing to do with you." Harry sat there for some minutes, crying, until finally his grip on Severus' robes relaxed.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's alright," Severus repeated. He had a feeling it would assuring Harry it was alright for quite some time. "Don't let yourself think that you were anything more than unwilling, and you did not want it."

"How do you know?" Harry hiccuped.

"You admitted that you didn't want to, that you tried not to, remember?" Harry nodded a bit, and Severus saw a dead look in Harry's eyes when their eyes met. "Oh, Harry," Severus sighed, pulling Harry into another firm embrace, "I never, ever want you to suffer on my account." They sat there for some time, neither one talking, Harry basking in the security of being held, and Severus, unsure that he had said everything he should, or said things he shouldn't, resorted to the oldest form of communication - the physical touch.

After over an hour, Severus finally stirred.

"The life of a teacher calls," Severus said, though he hadn't released Harry. "There's papers due back to those dunderheads tomorrow, and they're not graded."

"Oh," Harry replied, quickly sitting up. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Severus said, smiling sadly, shaking his head a bit. "You can stay here tonight, if you prefer." Severus got up and went to sit at his desk.

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied.

"I'll let your Head of House know, so she doesn't become worried. The time grows late, and we haven't eaten. Supper in the Great Hall happened awhile ago. I believe you are friends with a house elf? The one from the Malfoy estate?" Severus took out a quill and began to read over a stack of papers in front of him.

"Dobby?" Harry asked. "Yes, he's the one who enchanted that bludger in my second year."

"Ah, yes," Severus remembered. "The time it broke your arm and that fool, Lockhart, disintegrated all the bones in your arm instead."

"Well, my bone wasn't broken after that," Harry pointed out. "It's difficult to have a broken bone if you don't have a bone." Severus snorted without looking up from his work.

"Point, that," Severus replied. "Please call Dobby, then, to get us some food from the kitchens."

"Dobby!" Harry called, and the house elf popped into appearance in front of him.

"What can Dobby do for Master Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked excitedly.

"Professor Snape and I missed supper," Harry began, nervously glancing at Severus. "Can you - would you - bring some of the leftovers, please?"

"Of course, Master Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squealed. "Anything for the great Harry Potter!" Severus tried to repress a snort, but failed miserably. Harry slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand in exasperation as Dobby disappeared.

"When did he start calling you that?" Severus almost laughed.

"What? 'The great Harry Potter, sir'?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed.

"I believe he used that title the first time I saw him. Why?"

"I wonder who brought home stories about 'the great Harry Potter,'" Severus mused.

"Malfoy?" Harry suddenly realized. "You think Malfoy was talking about me? Saying something positive about me?"

"I would say Draco is the likely suspect."

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes?"

"You refer to Malfoy and Nott by their given names," Harry began nervously. "Why is that?"

"I know their fathers," Severus replied. He hadn't met Harry's gaze, but it was clear he'd stopped reading over the essay. "It helps to not confuse them with their fathers."

"Oh," Harry said. "Which is why you always called me Potter."

"Regrettably," Severus sighed. Harry dropped the issue, for which Severus was glad. Dobby reappeared with the requested food, which he set on Severus' desk. Harry pulled a chair close, and began to pick at the food as he watched Severus. They were quiet, but Severus felt better for keeping an eye on Harry anyway. It meant the boy wasn't getting himself in more trouble at the moment.

Suddenly, there was a loud knocking at his door. Severus sighed, and stood up. He went to the door and opened it. Minerva stepped through, pale and twisting her hands.

"Severus," she breathed, "do you know where Harry is?"

"I was about to let you know he would be spending the night here," Severus said, tilting his head a bit. "He's right here." Severus motioned to where Harry now stood next to his desk in the adjacent room.

"Oh, good, he's safe," Minerva sighed. "What do you know about Sirius being in the castle?" Her voice was grave.

"I'm somewhat bound by secrecy," Severus hesitated. "I knew he was here."

"Do you realize what he's done?" Minerva screamed hysterically. She rushed into Severus' quarters and closed the door behind her.

"What has Black done?" he asked uncertainly.

"He killed a student," Minerva hissed. "And left another brutally mauled."

"Oh?" Severus asked, outwardly undisturbed.

"Theodore Nott is dead," Minerva continued. "Draco Malfoy is currently being treated by Poppy. He should live, but he'll have scars." Severus simply raised an eyebrow at the news. "You're taking this extremely calming," Minerva said coldly. "I'm beginning to suspect you knew about this?"

"I knew nothing of what Black was going to do," Severus replied coolly. "I knew he was in the castle. That was it."

"You're not upset. He killed one of your students. Theodore Nott is dead. Why aren't you tirading, ranting about how you knew Black would do this?"

"Minerva," Severus said calmly. "I'm sorry if my reaction is disappointing to you. I can't comment on the situation without violating a secrecy. I believe Black would not have done anything I wouldn't have done, given the right opportunity." Severus was taking it too calmly. Perhaps he would have a fit after she left?

"The Aurors are on their way," Minerva continued.

"What is the Headmaster's reaction to this?"

"He's grieved, naturally," Minerva said snidely. "He's not going to stand in the Ministry's way after this. Azkaban must have unhinged Sirius more than we thought."

"It's possible," Severus dismissed.

"I don't understand you, Snape," she snapped at him. He raised his eyebrow at the form of address.

"I never expected you to understand," he said quietly. "Please, just trust me."

"You ask a lot," Minerva replied.

"Have I ever steered your wrong before, when I've asked you to trust me?"

"No," Minerva admitted.

"And Black? What will happen to him?"

"He'll be Kissed," Minerva said.

"Albus wants you to keep guard over Sirius until they arrive." Severus paused for a minute, and looked towards the other room nervously.

"Happily," Severus suddenly nodded, an idea occurring to him. It was just a glimmer of a thought, something Severus wasn't even sure would work, but it was worth a try.

"Then Albus will want you to meet him in the dungeons immediately."

"We're in the dungeons already," Severus sighed. "You mean the holding cells in Hogwarts? I'll be there shortly."

"Alright, Severus," Minerva said. "I hope you know what you're doing." Minerva turned and left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

"I hope I do too," Severus whispered, knowing it was too late for her to hear him. He returned to where Harry was still sitting, picking at his food.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

"That was Professor McGonagall," Severus began, unsure of how to break the news to Harry. "Your godfather - " he restrained himself from derogatory comments, " - was caught. He's being held while the Ministry comes to take him. He's killed Theodore, and Draco has been seriously wounded. He'll be Kissed."

"Sirius!" Harry gasped. "He's going to die. And it's all my fault." Harry covered his face with his hands.

"Stop that immediately," Severus said urgently, summoning a vial of potion. "It is not your fault. Black did what he did independent of you. You did not make him do it. Here." Severus handed him the potion. "Loath as I am to do this, I don't see any alternative. Take the dreamless sleep before you fall asleep. You may use my bed. I doubt I'll be needing it tonight. Now eat. I'll be leaving a few minutes, and it's late. You should go to sleep as soon as possible." Severus wolfed down a bit of food himself, and watched as Harry made an attempt to do the same. It was a pitiful attempt, but Severus wasn't about to fight with the boy at this time.

"I can't eat anymore," Harry finally complained.

"That will be enough then," Severus said, vanishing the food and plates with a flick of his wand. "Get ready for bed. I'll be in in a minute." Harry left, and like he had promised, in a minute Severus looked into the bedroom. Harry was lying in bed, the potion sitting on the nightstand. Severus entered and took the potion, rolling it over in his hand.

"Take it, Harry," he whispered, handing it to the boy.

"The addiction?" Harry asked.

"Just this once," Severus replied, glad Harry was taking his well-being seriously. "I won't give it to you again for some time."

"Alright," Harry agreed, accepting the potion and drinking it. He leaned back into the pillow, the covers askew. Severus leaned over and straightened them over Harry's thin frame.

"I will do everything in my power to help Black, for your sake. I give you my word."

"Thank you," Harry whispered, as his eyes began to droop with medication induced sleep.

"I'll see you in the morning," Severus said. "Try not to worry too much. I'll be back soon." Severus hesitated a moment, then quickly laid a chaste kiss on Harry's forehead before turning, grabbing his cloak and wand, and leaving his chambers.

It a few minutes, Severus arrived at the holding cell were Sirius was.

"Hello, Albus," he greeted the Headmaster.

"Severus," Albus returned. "I trust Minerva has told you, then?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Severus affirmed.

"My condolences on the loss of your student," Albus continued. "Sirius hasn't explained anything about it."

"Thank you," Severus replied. "I'm sure he'll speak to me readily enough."

"Will you be safe together?" Albus asked.

"He's disarmed, I presume?"

"Of course."

"Then I am more than capable, Albus."

"Thank you, Severus. I never suspected a tragedy like this would happen."

"This isn't the first tragedy you never suspected," Severus muttered. He thought, for a moment, that Albus had heard him, but if he had, then he didn't say anything, because the older wizard turned and left.

"Why didn't you run, Black?" Severus asked, as soon as Albus had gone.

"One of the teachers heard the commotion," Sirius explained.

"Alright. I can't let you out, or make it seem plausible that you overpowered me somehow."

"I know," Sirius said. "I never expected you to."

"If I could, I would, for Harry's sake."

"I understand."

"Good. I have an idea, though. It may not work. I haven't heard of anyone trying it under these circumstances. I will assist you if you want to try."

The two fell into a long evening of plotting. After the night wore away, and the sun welcomed a new day, the door opened, and Aurors walked down the steps. Dumbeldore was with them.

"Thank you, Severus," Albus said. "The Aurors will take Sirius into custody now. I've taken the liberty of canceling your classes today. You should go rest."

"When will the execution take place?" Severus asked casually.

"Today, at sundown."

"So around five o'clock then," Severus concluded.

"Yes," Albus confirmed sadly. Severus nodded to Albus, the Aurors, and Black in turn, then left in his usual blustery way.

.oO-Oo.

Slowly, they walked down the dark hallway. A man in black strode confidently with his robe billowing behind him. Right next to him was a boy, one who had seen more in the past few months than most grown men. Snape and Harry walked toward the guarded room.

Sirius was being held at the Ministry of Magic for when the guards of Azkaban could return with a dementor. Snape hadn't made Harry go to classes that day, with everything that had happened previously, and everything that was going to happen that night.

As promised, Harry had done his best to eat and then had taken the potion gratefully. He had slept well for once. Also as promised, Snape had returned in the morning. Harry had just woke up, and was splashing water on his face when Snape came in and told him the Aurors were there and had taken Sirius into custody.

Harry begged and pleaded that he be allowed to see Sirius one last time before the execution. Snape seemed hesitant to allow it - what if it were too much for Harry? - but eventually gave in. So Snape was accompanying him to see his godfather.

They approached the cell, and guard let them in, no questions asked, thankfully. Sirius was lying on a cot, one of the only things provided in the small cell. He didn't seem too troubled by his appalling accommodation, Harry realized, probably because of how he was in prison in Azkaban for twelve years. This was a luxury compare to that place.

Sirius sat up in surprise when he saw Harry. Harry walked towards him, and Sirius rose, smiling. Snape lingered behind at the door. Not saying a word, his godfather embraced him. Harry held his godfather tightly. He didn't want to let him go. This was all his fault. The more he thought along those lines, the tighter Harry held on, as though time might stop and undo itself for the ferocity of his hug.

"It's all my fault," Harry murmured. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted you involved. It's all my fault." His breath hitched dangerously as he buried his face in Sirius' clothes.

"Don't blame yourself," Sirius replied kindly. "Did you think I could simply stand back and let them do that to you?" Harry released Sirius and took a step back, looking at the ground, feeling guilty.

"I had to protect - " he mumbled softly, risking a side-long glance at Snape.

"Snape doesn't expect you to protect him," Sirius rebuked him. "And neither do I. You're a child, and you do not have to protect Snape or myself. We are supposed to protect you. And we've been doing a pretty poor job of it. I would kill for you, Harry. I have killed for you. First your uncle, now Nott. Malfoy will think twice before harming you again."

"And what am I supposed to do when you're gone?" Harry asked, none too quietly, his eyes shining as he looked at Sirius.

"You don't need me," Sirius replied, hugging Harry again.

"What are you talking about?" Harry began to sob. "I've always needed you. I needed you in my third year, and I needed you before. I've always needed you, and I still need you. Don't leave me."

"Yes, you needed someone," Sirius agreed. "And I've never been able to provide you with the home and family you need. I've been a proper failure of a godfather for you, Harry. You have everything you need without me. You have - your father. You don't need me."

"Yes, I do need you! Don't say that!"

"Severus?" Sirius asked, turning to the man in the shadows, and releasing Harry. "I've never apologized for that night in the Shrieking Shack. I don't want to die with that on my conscience. My pride has kept me from bringing it up earlier. I never meant to endanger your life, and James and Remus refused to speak with me for some time after that. I almost lost them. Will you forgive me?"

Snape stepped out of the shadows, and didn't say anything, but when Sirius held his hand out, Snape took it and gave it one firm shake. Then Snape released Sirius' hand and stepped back.

"You're forgiven," he said quietly and stepped back into the shadows. Sirius turned back to Harry.

"Now listen to me," Sirius said, his voice stern, as he put one hand on Harry's shoulder, "what happens tonight is not your fault."

"Don't you see?" Harry asked, tears running freely down his cheeks. "It's all my fault. If I had just been stronger with my uncle, that would never have happened, then if I hadn't told Snape, no one would have known, and if I hadn't had a breakdown in the bathroom, Malfoy would never have found out, and if he hadn't owed Nott, yesterday wouldn't have happened. It's all my fault. Please forgive me." Harry wiped his sleeve across his eyes.

"There's nothing to forgive," Sirius replied quietly. "I've never been able to look after you properly. You have Severus now. He's what you need."

"Can't you see that I need both of you?" Harry said past the lump that was quickly forming in his throat. "You've been so busy hating each other that you can't see. I need both of you. I can't do this alone." Harry threw his arms around Sirius' neck. "Please don't leave me," he sobbed. "I need both of you. Don't leave me alone."

There was an abrupt knock on the door.

"Harry," Snape cut in, "we need to go now." Neither Sirius nor Harry seemed to have heard him. He stepped close to the weeping boy and his one-time enemy and put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "We need to leave," he murmured.

"I don't want to leave," Harry muffled without picking his face out of Sirius' clothes. "I want to be with him."

"Harry," Sirius said gently, "I don't want you to see this."

"I'm staying!" Harry frantically shouted, now looking at Sirius. "You shouldn't have to die alone!" There was another knock on the door. Severus and Sirius exchanged a knowing look, and Sirius gently kissed Harry's forehead.

"I'll miss you, Harry." Severus hands gripped Harry's thin shoulders and pulled him towards himself. Harry sniffled, trying to get control of himself, and then tried to fight his way out of Severus' grip.

"Take my godson," Sirius said to Severus, almost frantically. "Get him out of here. Look after him and protect him. Do what I can't."

"You have my word," Severus replied.

"No, no, no," he objected. "You - can't - make - me - leave." Severus put his arms around Harry and manhandled the boy towards the door.

"Take care of him, Snivellus!" Sirius called, his voice almost breaking. "Harry James - Severus - Potter Snape, I'll always love you!" Severus opened the door and forced Harry out of the room with Sirius. A dementor floated close by, sucking what little happiness Harry and Severus still had. Quickly, before Harry could pass out, Severus drew his wand and cast his patronus. A silvery doe circled around the two of them. Without another word, Severus apparated the two of them right outside the Hogwarts wards. Severus still had his arms around Harry's torso from trying to restrain him, and in Harry's despair, the boy collapsed at the waist over Severus' arm.

Severus let Harry go. There was no where he could run to endanger himself at the moment. Instead, Harry let himself fall to the ground where he continued to be racked by silent sobs. Severus knelt on one knee beside Harry, unsure what to do. He reached out and ran his hand over Harry's raven mop. Then he did it again, and again.

"I'm sorry," Severus whispered, as he ran his fingers thought the boy's hair again. "I'm here. It will be alright." Harry didn't react to his voice or touch at all. Severus blinked back some quickly growing wetness behind his eyes. Damn allergies, he thought.


	27. The Winners Write History

Harry sat in the corner of Severus' chambers the rest of the night, wordlessly holding himself, thinking who knew what thoughts. Severus was worried about him, and didn't know what to do for the boy. So he kept a close eye on Harry while he graded his papers for the next day, but Harry neither moved nor spoke. The more time that passed, the more Severus became concerned. The clock chimed eight, and still Harry hadn't moved or said a word. Severus hadn't made him go to supper, and so neither of them had eaten.

He rose and stepped into another room, softly calling Dobby to bring them some more leftovers. Happily, the house elf brought Severus two plates of pot roast and vegetables. Severus thanked the elf, and brought the plates back into the room where he set them down on a small table.

"Harry?" he asked gently. "Dobby brought you some food." Harry didn't respond, but instead just looked away. At least the boy moved.

"You need to eat." Harry didn't react. Severus supposed this was going to be a terribly one sided conversation. He remembered all too vividly his own grief after losing Lily.

"Harry, I know how you feel. It took me over a week to eat again after your mother died, and over a month to leave these rooms. I don't want to see you go through that too. I didn't have anyone to help me at the time. Please let me help you."

"Can you tell me about her?" Harry whispered, his voice hoarse from crying and screaming earlier, and then disuse.

"Of course," Severus replied. "I have some pictures, if you would like to come and see."

"I'm so tired," Harry sighed as he let his head fall against the wall. Severus got up and reached to Harry. Harry grasped Severus' hand and he helped the boy up and over to the chair. Harry slumped over the table, picking up the fork and playing with his food. Severus stepped aside and began to rummage in a trunk. After a moment, he returned with a photo album.

"Here," he said, handing Harry the book. "These are the pictures I have of your mother and me from our school days." Harry accepted it, and began to look at the pictures. Most were of the two of them doing various things at school, Lily in her Gryffindor uniform, and Severus in his Slytherin one. A few were from before Hogwarts, and during the summer, when they wore Muggle clothes. Lily always sported a wide smile, and often, so did Severus.

"You're not wearing black," Harry commented when he reached the pictures from their summers together.

"I've never moved past that stage of my mourning," Severus said softly.

"Oh," Harry eloquently replied. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Severus whispered, barely keeping a control on his own emotions. They fell silent, and Harry didn't eat anything on his plate, but Severus was grateful that he had managed to elicit any sort of reaction from him. After a few minutes, Harry got up and returned to his former place and position. Severus' eyes followed him, sadly, still not sure what course of action to take. He sighed hopelessly.

Time wore on, and the hour grew late, and finally Severus rose to make sure Harry slept. He lowered himself next to the boy, who didn't react at all.

"It's time for you to go to bed," Severus murmured softly.

"Nightmares," Harry whispered back.

"I can't give you another vial," Severus continued. "That's what creates the dependency. It would be incredibly irresponsible of me to do that. I'll be here though."

"Don't leave me," Harry whispered, slipping his smaller hand into Severus' larger one.

"I won't," Severus promised. Harry leaned against the man, and relaxed into a light slumber. Severus picked Harry up and brought him to his own personal bedroom. Severus laid Harry out on his bed, and pulled the covers over him. Then he transfigured a small cot next to the bed, so that he could monitor Harry through the night for any sign of nightmares. He shoved the cot close, and held Harry's hand in his own, so that Harry would know he was there, even in his sleep.

.oO-Oo.

Next morning, Severus woke before Harry. He rose and fixed two cups of tea, waiting for when Harry would wake. As time marched along, and class time was approaching, Severus intended to wake Harry. He looked up and saw a figure.

"Black!" Severus shouted. "What took you so long? You have a godson who's been distraught over your untimely departure. Do the honors and wake him up. He's had a fitful night." Sirius went into the other room and woke Harry. Severus heard a delighted scream, and smiled softly to himself.

Harry rushed out of the bedroom, and just looked at Severus' knowing face and smiled. Severus was satisfied that he had made the right choice.

.oO-Oo.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked, his face wet with tears, but this time, it was because of joy. Harry stood by Sirius, his gaze darting between his godfather and Snape.

"Because we didn't know if it would work," Snape tried to explain. "No one had ever tried it before, and we had no way of knowing if it would work. I didn't want to give you false hope."

"Oh," Harry said, like he didn't quite understand.

"If it hadn't worked," Sirius began, "and you placed all your expectations on seeing me again, and I never returned, how much more devastated would you have been?"

"I see," Harry said. "Thank you."

.oO-Oo.

In the wizarding world, it was commonly believed that dementors ate the souls of their victims. This was the story that was passed from parents to children, and no one remembered where this story originated. It was just something that everyone knew. The more critical thinkers of the wizarding community argued that this was impossible, because if the dementor ate the soul of its victim, there was nothing left to move on past the veil. Some wizards believed this to be the case, that the souls of those fed to the dementors were condemned to never see eternal rest, and they used this idea as a reason to be opposed (sometimes violently) to the use of dementors in the justice system.

Those who maintained that the dementors did not truly eat the souls of their victims said that what the dementors did eat was the energy released upon death. They proposed the theory that when the body and soul of the individual were separated, a great burst of energy took place, and it was this energy which fed the dementors' never ending hunger. Some even went as far as to say that this explained why dementors targeted wizards specifically, as when a wizard died, the burst of energy was exponentially greater than any other living being on earth. Muggles produced the next largest burst, due to their intelligence, but not as large as wizards, due to their lack of magic. Animals created a much smaller burst, since they lacked intelligence in the human understanding of it. Dementors would target Muggles, or even animals, if their pray was scarce, but in general, they preferred wizards.

But everyone's opinions were just that - opinions, conjectures, theories. No one had ever done an experiment to see what the truth was. Who would want to potentially sacrifice their eternity for a matter of curiosity? Let the philosophers and the scientists argue about it. Ordinary people had no reason to want to challenge either side.

Sirius Black was not an ordinary person, and neither did he have ordinary qualms.

.oO-Oo.

"Why didn't you run, Black?" Severus asked, as soon as Albus had gone.

"One of the teachers heard the commotion," Sirius explained.

"Alright. I can't let you out, or make it seem plausible that you overpowered me somehow."

"I know," Sirius said. "I never expected you to."

"If I could, I would, for Harry's sake."

"I understand."

"Good. I have an idea, though. It may not work. I haven't heard of anyone trying it under these circumstances. I will assist you if you want to try."

"What is it?" Black asked, curious.

"You could become a ghost."

"A what?"

"A ghost. I would expect you've seen them before," Severus drawled.

"Can we do it even if I'm being Kissed?"

"I don't know," Severus admitted. "That's what I'm not sure about. If it is successful, you will be a ghost forever. There will be no going back. You'll see Harry grow up, grow old, and eventually die. And you'll still be around. You'll see his children, if he has any, grow up and die. And you'll still be here, stuck between the Veil and the living. Is this something you want to do?"

"Harry's probably pretty upset right now, isn't he?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," Severus confirmed. "I left him with a sleeping potion, so he shouldn't be in any trouble, from nightmares or otherwise."

"Thank you," Sirius said. "I don't think I can leave Harry forever, not if there's another option."

"Does that mean you want to attempt to become a ghost?"

"Yes."

"The Hogwarts ghosts don't recommend this course, you realize," Severus continued. "I don't want to be responsible for not warning you of the consequences before we begin."

"I understand the consequences," Sirius said. "The Hogwarts ghosts became ghosts because they were afraid of death. They didn't become ghosts for someone else."

"Perhaps become a ghost for someone else is harder," Severus pointed out quietly. "If you try to escape death, you've succeeded. You'll be a ghost forever. If you become a ghost for Harry, Harry will eventually leave you behind. There's no saying how long he'll live." Severus didn't want to say that Harry might even end his own life, but it was a possibility.

"Perhaps it is harder," Sirius agreed. "Perhaps someday I'll regret this decision. But right now, I'll regret not doing it if I don't."

"Then that is your final decision?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then I will help you."

"Thank you, Severus."

Severus conducted a ritual designed to produce a ghost upon death. They agreed not to mention this to Harry, so as not to give him false hope. If it failed, Harry would be more devastated than if he had never been told about this possibility. As a new day dawned, the ritual was complete. Severus was exhausted, both from lack of sleep and the drain on his magic.

"That's all I can do," Severus sighed. "If it's possible to become a ghost, you will be one."

"I appreciate your time and skill," Sirius returned.

"You're welcome, Black," Severus said.

.oO-Oo.

Later that day, upon Harry's orders now that he was the heir to the Black estate, Kreacher brought a golden locket to Severus. It was the horcrux.

"I believe this is yours," Sirius said, handing Severus the locket. He could feel the evil coming from it, and shuddered to think what sort of a person could stand to wear it and be unaffected.

"Thank you, Black," Severus replied. "Harry!" He had been keeping an extra close eye on the boy and was requiring him to spend a few days under his watch rather than getting into trouble back in the Gryffindor common room. Harry stepped around from another room, and looked nervously, alternating, at Severus and Sirius.

"A horcrux," Severus explained. "There's no time to lose destroying it." Severus retrieved his basilisk fang, and together, kneeling on the ground, Harry and Severus raised it above the locket. They brought it down, but the fang bounced off.

"I - I think we have to open it," Harry said.

"It's possible," Severus said, clearly disappointed. They tried to pry it open, and nothing they could do would work.

"Maybe Parseltongue," Harry suggested and tried to focus on summoning the right sounds. Nothing would come. He tried again. Still nothing.

"Is everything alright?" Severus asked.

"I can't speak Parseltongue anymore," Harry panicked. "It's gone."

"Have you tried since you destroyed the horcrux inside you?"

"No," Harry admitted, suddenly realizing what it meant. "We can't destroy it." Severus was agitated at the thought that he couldn't destroy the man who had caused him and the ones he loved so much misery. He would always have a nagging fear that the man could return again, and haunt them. He covered his mouth with his hand as he sat back on his heels. "I'm sorry," Harry murmured.

"If we had known," Severus began, "your horcrux should have been the last. Instead, it was the first. There was no way we could know the order they had to be destroyed. It's not your fault."

"I know," Harry said. "I'm still sorry."

"Black," Severus said, addressing the silent ghost who stood behind them, "I want you to take this as far away as you can, bury it as far beneath the earth as you can, and forget where you put it. It may be a tiny bit of the Dark Lord which remains, which can one day be used to bring him back, but we can make that as difficult as we can. If there is no record of its existence, if we report that we destroyed it, then no one will try to look for it. The winners write history, and right now, we're the winners."

"I will do as you say," Sirius said, and vanished, locket in hand.

"We still have to look for two other horcruxes," Harry pointed out once Sirius was gone. "It might not get rid of You-Know-Who forever, because of the locket, but if we can destroy the missing two, it will limit his chances."

"Of course," Severus said, still reeling from the horror that he couldn't rely on the knowledge that his master would be dead forever. "And with a ghost on our side, research becomes much easier," Severus continued. "Black can pour over the tomes in the library at all hours, no need of sleep, and he can consult with the other ghosts much more effectively than we can."

"I just wanted to say - thank you for that."

"For what?" Severus asked.

"For helping Sirius become a ghost. I - I can't imagine - " Harry stopped and looked at Severus.

"What can't you imagine?" Severus prompted patiently.

"I can't imagine you suggesting it to him," Harry continued. "That you would offer him a way to still be here, and that you would help him with it."

"If I didn't, you would have suffered much more," Severus said quietly.

"But you'll have to put up with him for the rest of your life!" Harry exclaimed. Severus snorted.

"I believe I can tolerate a mutt if it means you'll actually eat and speak to me."

"Well, still. Thank you."

"You're welcome. We can work on tracking down those next two horcruxes later as we find time. I still have your blasted essays to grade!"

"Sorry," Harry smiled.

"Take note, Harry," Severus said, his voice oddly calm. "As your father, I ask that you avenge me, because one day you will find me drooling in the corner, unresponsive, and it will be because I had a stroke. And it will be entirely the fault of all those dunderheads." Harry gaped slightly before swallowing.

"Right...avenge…" Harry nodded. "Any particular hex or curse you have in mind?"

.oO-Oo.

The days came and went. OWLs came and went. The year came and went, and Harry found himself at the parting feast, having performed at least an "Acceptable" on all of his OWLs, with Snape's help and tutelage. Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, on the far end of the Gryffindor table, the one closest to the exit. Harry still preferred that seat. It was convenient for a quick escape, something he still did occasionally, though it was becoming rarer.

Harry spent the night in Snape's chambers more often than not. He found it much more comfortable to deal with the dark potions professor, now his father, than a common room full of Gryffindors. He still had nightmares - regularly - but Snape was always patient and helped him through them every time. Some found his sleeping arrangements odd, but Ron and Hermione respected Harry's choices without a word of criticism or demands for explanation. Harry still spent time with them, and for that, they were grateful. They didn't want to see their friend slip away from them, and as they had proven, they were willing to fight for him.

The school still talked, but the rumors and the whispers were becoming less. Perhaps Nott's death, and Malfoy's injuries, had something to do with that. It certainly sent the message "Don't mess with the Boy-Who-Lived." Most of the students refused to talk to him. Harry wasn't disappointed with this arrangement. He was more than happy to not talk to them as well, and as long as they left him alone, he was happy to leave them alone.

No new articles had been published in the Daily Prophet since the interview with Malfoy a couple months previous. Perhaps it had something to do with Sirius - accidentally - squishing a small pink beetle in Snape's quarters one day. No one could be sure, really, because there was no pink beetle in the registers of animagi. The three of them felt that the conspicuous lack of articles regarding Harry confirmed their suspicions.

With Sirius' help, he and Snape were able to track down both Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem and destroy them. Neither was hard to find with the right information. The thought of the locket still preyed at Snape's mind, Harry knew, because sometimes, in the middle of the night, he could hear Snape vomiting, and sometimes, he would watch as Snape's eyes grew distant and he began to pace anxiously. When that happened, Harry would try to say something to distract Snape. Maybe about homework, his lessons that day, a question about his parents even. This would usually bring Snape back to the present moment. Harry feared the day when it would no longer work, and prayed that it would never come.

The Feast went well. Harry chatted with his friends, and ate a decent amount. Not a lot for an average fifteen year old boy, but Harry was not an average fifteen year old boy. Snape had said he was pleased with Harry's eating progress, and this time, Harry didn't have to fear lack of food at the end of the school year.

Snape had told him that they would be spending the summer at Spinner's End, Snape's own personal home. Snape had warned him it wasn't much, a run down house in a run down neighborhood on the far side of England. Snape warned him that it was shabby and ill-stocked in the way of things Harry would like. Harry had told him he didn't care. It would be better than Dudley's second bedroom, he was confident. Even Snape had nodded and agreed it would be better.

As the students prepared to get on the Hogwarts' Express, Harry hung back and waved to his friends. They wished him good-byes, waves, and friendly smiles as they disappeared into the train. Harry felt a small twinge of remorse at saying good-bye to them for the summer, but he didn't feel sad, properly speaking. He would see them again soon, and they had promised to write to him. No, he didn't feel sad.

Harry turned to his left and looked up at Snape, who stood by his side, and then to his right, where he saw the shimmering outline of Sirius. He waved one last time at the train, which had started to chug away with increasing speed, and smiled.

THE END


End file.
